Then Go
by Aki4
Summary: The story of a boy, his sun, and how they saved the world--with help, of course. CHAPTER 11 UP! In which Goku is fed, and the rest of the Ikkou winds up on the lam. Happy Holidays!
1. Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a boy.  
  
There will always be a time, and there will always be boys. But this time, and this boy, were both a little special.   
  
This time, Civilization and indeed all living things (except the roaches; for very little bothers them) lay on one side of the mighty Scales of Fate. And in the other pan, four individuals were placed by a hand who judged them to be, not only the world's best hope, but its only hope.  
  
The owner of that hand was, unfortunately, also the owner of a rather peculiar sense of humor and a tendency to gamble. The four individuals, who had very little say in the beginning but rather a great deal to say in the end, eventually came to appreciate that fact.   
  
By then, of course, it was too late.  
  
Fortunately, everyone involved made the correct choices, or at least those that resulted in the world not being destroyed.   
  
And where was the boy, in all this?  
  
Why, in the middle, of course. 


	2. Wait Up

If you will leave me, lad, then go  
  
The world is wide, and calling you  
  
You wish to see its charms, I know  
  
I shall not keep them from your view  
  
..................................  
  
The day began as so many others had, and still more would.  
  
"Wake up, you dumb ape."  
  
The only response was a burrowing movement on the part of the person being addressed.  
  
"I SAID, wake UP. Sanzo says we've got to make good time today to hit the next village."  
  
If anything, the breathing grew deeper.  
  
"Fine. Be that way. I'm eating all the meatbuns."  
  
The covers flew off in a flurry of long limbs which immediately tried to choke him.   
  
"You...wouldn't...dare!!"  
  
"OW! Not the hair, NOT the hair, you little brat!! I was just--" a grunt, and furious scrabbling at the death-grip "--trying to--ow, fuck!--get you up!"  
  
"Good." He just had time to visualize the smirk before he was released, and 114 pounds of lean, brown boy hit the floor with a bare-heeled *thump*. Before he could stick out a foot to trip them, Goku had vanished through the door. The whoop trailed behind him on the stairs--  
  
"BREAKFAST!!"  
  
At the table, Gojyo massaged his neck with a scowl. "That's the last time I do alarm duty, thank you very much," he announced to the group. "I don't know what sucks more, being strangled by the monkey or shot awake by the monk."  
  
"Come come, let's not start the day with angry words," Hakkai said cheerfully, sitting down across from him. It was a minor miracle, how he managed to look so neat with only a small jug of water and no mirror. Hakkai, to the eternal bemusement of his companions, was a morning person.  
  
Sanzo, who was not, muttered, "If I hear another word, angry or otherwise, I'll shoot you all," and retreated behind his paper.   
  
The four minutes that ensued were filled with the relatively peaceful sounds of gobbling. Food was squabbled over, inevitably but silently.  
  
Outside, the day looked promising. The air was chill with mist rising from the ground, but already a steady sun promised warmth within the hour. Jeep was waiting by the time they'd paid their tab and gathered outside, Goku having lingered to coax a few more meatbuns.   
  
"Three seconds and we leave him behind."  
  
Hakkai, fingers wrapped gently on the wheel, turned to look curiously at the man beside him in the passenger seat. "Sanzo-san, did you not sleep well?"  
  
"Two seconds," was the only reply. At that moment, Goku burst out of the inn door, a white cloth bundle cradled in his arms. In response, Sanzo stuck out a foot and slammed on the accelerator. With a roar and a startled *kyuu*, the vehicle leaped forward. The boy gaped, then began to run.  
  
"Bouzu, you've gone and left the monkey!""Please, Sanzo, let me drive!"   
  
The two shouts rang out together as Jeep bounced onto the main road, scattering chickens without mercy. "Sanzo!! Sanzo, wait!!" came from behind, as Goku sprinted madly towards them. Through the dust of their wake, the whites of his eyes showed wide and frightened.  
  
Hakkai tried to pry the intruding foot off of the pedal, but the sandal would not be budged. Gojyo twisted around, gripping the top of the worn leather seat, and grinned around his cigarette at the figure chasing them. "Serves you right for being late, greedy guts!"  
  
"I'll kill you," howled Goku, and ran even faster. But just as he managed to draw close enough to touch the bumper, Jeep's acceleration picked up, and the gap began to widen once again. "WAIT," he cried, and reached out, as Hakkai steered frantically around potholes and the occasional witless sheep.   
  
"Oi, Sanzo, let up, the kid's getting out of breath," Gojyo observed with a note of alarm. The monk said nothing, arms crossed and eyes closed as if completely detached from Jeep as it clattered and bumped along the road. They were now going faster than Goku could run, and the growing desperation in his eyes made the morning's grudge melt away. Getting no response, he grabbed the sutra-draped shoulders before him and gave a shake. "Hey!!"   
  
Giving up on getting a response, he turned to Hakkai. "Slow down a little, will ya? He's going to pull a muscle at this rate!"  
  
"I can't touch the brakes, not while we're still gunning it!" exclaimed the normally unflappable driver. "It'll wreck the gears! Sanzo, please move!"  
  
Goku had evidently given up on their slowing down. Throwing down his bundle, he put on a final burst of speed and drew level with the backseat. Gojyo gritted his teeth, braced his foot against the door, and reached out just as Goku leapt. He hauled on a skinny brown arm, and they tumbled back together. He inhaled sharply as a swerve threw his head against the side, and nearly swallowed the cigarette. Spitting and fuming, he kicked and wriggled into an upright position just as Hakkai finally managed to throw on the brakes. Still tangled, the two in the back were slammed against the front seats with an impact that left them breathless.   
  
He shook his head, shoved the kid off his lap, and stood up. Hakkai's grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, and he stared straight ahead as Jeep adjusted to a slow-rumbling pace. Sanzo took his hands off the frame and looked off to the side, eminently unconcerned. There was a moment of silence.   
  
Then, "What the fuck was that?" Gojyo bellowed. "I nearly broke my nose back there! You gotta problem with the monkey, take it out some other way! Don't frickin' play games while we drive!!" Hakkai said nothing, but the set of his shoulders seemed to agree. The target of their anger gazed at the landscape. In the back, Goku let out a small whimper.  
  
"I dropped the meatbuns." Accusation and anguish mingled in his tone.   
  
For once, Gojyo refrained from insulting the boy's appetite. "We can go back for them," Hakkai suggested gently. Goku shook his head violently, darting a look at the golden head in front. The scholar's lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing except, "I'll get you some at the next village."  
  
"Promise?" Goku sat up, looking less shaken.  
  
Hakkai smiled. "Promise."   
  
The rest of the day was tense and unusually quiet, with only cigarette smoke rising from travelers to stain the summer air. They made good time, as Sanzo had intended, and reached the village shortly before sunset. It had been a long drive and there were yawns as they stepped out stiffly to stretch their legs. Goku, uncharacteristically, was the last one out, a fact that Hakkai noted with a slight frown.  
  
"Beer," moaned Gojyo with a mock-stagger. "In the name of Heavenly Mercy, get me somewhere with cold beer."  
  
"I wouldn't rely on the kind of Heavenly Mercy you'd get around here," Sanzo said as he surveyed the streets of the small settlement. It was almost the first thing he'd said all day, and it restored them to a semblance of their usual routine. Gojyo and Goku began to bicker over whose turn it was to sleep on the floor, while Hakkai asked directions from a passer-by. Before the last of the red light sunk below the horizon, they were sitting by a fire, sipping the last of a round of beer to wash down their dinners.   
  
It was still early, but they had started shortly after sunrise, and the group felt drained. Their youngest member had both elbows on the table, and appeared sunk in contemplation of the space between them. A tired silence fell on them once more. Without looking up, Goku broke it. "...m'sorry."  
  
"Eh?" Gojyo took his eyes from the serving-girl's back and fixed them on his short companion. "Wassat?"  
  
"I wasn't talking to you, erogappa," the boy retorted.  
  
"Well, then look at who you're bloody talking to, soup-for-brains." He said the words, grinning, almost glad of the prospect of an exchange. A day without a few insults just didn't seem right, and too much of this one had already gone by. To his surprise, Goku turned to Sanzo, who was sipping steadily and staring at the fire.  
  
"I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you mad, ok? So you can stop being such a jerk about it now." He crossed his arms defiantly, but spoiled it by sneaking a look at Sanzo's face, which markedly failed to register a softer countenance. After a few moments where the tired silence was replaced by an awkward one, he stood and shoved his beer across the table to Gojyo. "Here, you can have it. I'm going to bed," he announced, and headed off. The red-head squinted at him as he left, though he was quick to take up the offering.  
  
"Bloody amazing," he said, and lifted the mug to his lips.  
  
"Not really, he doesn't like beer all that much," Hakkai said absently.  
  
"No, look, he's actually not headed for the kitchen." As he spoke, Goku climbed the stairs and vanished around the bend.  
  
Hakkai closed his eyes and sighed. They were staying in one room tonight, the only one "fit for gentlemen of such quality," the innkeeper had said fawningly. Whatever its quality, he knew better than to expect more than one bed. He also knew better than to expect that bed to be unoccupied when he reached it, although he'd gotten more than his share of the floor recently. He didn't mind; it was more the loss of opportunity to pull Sanzo aside that he regretted. Goku, for all his five hundred years, was still a child, and the glee he felt at successfully stealing the bed could ease the sting of the morning's episode.  
  
He hope it would end there, and that whatever had come over their appointed leader would be quick to go away.  
  
Somehow, he didn't think they would be that lucky. 


	3. Bad Night

i am in heaven. thank you all for your reviews, especially sf for your words of encouragement =) yoong, X-parrot (love your work), gallatica, konzen, labrynth, krimson, NekoMegami-chan, and K. Firefly, i'm grateful to you for taking those extra moments to make a museless writer happy!   
  
UltraM2000, the typo is fixed and NAZE AAIU HEN NA MONO O SHITTERUNO? Makibishe tte koto, makibishi!! are wa ninja no dougu darou? o_0;;  
  
.............................................  
  
It is said that birds of a feather, flock together.  
  
Nowhere does it say what happens when birds of very different feathers are told to flock west.   
  
Given their distinctive shares of Personality and Ability, History and Destiny, it was basically anybody's guess. Obviously it was somebody's, for it was no more coincidence that the four of them were reunited in this lifetime than it was coincidence for an apple, when dropped, to fall down. In both cases, there was a large force at work in a myriad of small ways.   
  
For example, it was amazing how many differences were reflected between the members of their group. At first glance, they had nothing in common. Indeed, the second and the third glances only strengthened that impression. It took a keen observer at the right times to see what they themselves sometimes could not, that their differences were actually what made them strong. An even keener observer would have seen that underlying those differences was something that pulled them in the same direction.  
  
It is said that opposites attract.  
  
This may not be true, but they can learn to get along...  
  
...eventually.  
  
...................................................  
  
Sleep. He really didn't see how it was possible to argue over sleep. Everyone needed it, didn't they? It was just a question of how much, and when. But apparently that was enough to make trouble. He slept lightly, except when drunk, which was perhaps why he liked getting drunk so much. It was a habit he'd picked up in his childhood and hadn't been able to let go afterwards, because what with one thing and another, it seemed to help keep him alive. At times like these, he really wondered if that was a good thing.  
  
It was a bad night. Goku never seemed to have them, and it was hard not to be jealous. As long as he knew where Sanzo was, he slept the sleep of the eighteen-year old who has just eaten a meal for three. It was a sight to make the just and weary envious. Adversity only seemed to make him snore the louder, and kick the harder.   
  
For Hakkai, a bad night started with a smile. Hakkai, who smiled perpetually when awake, almost never did so in his sleep. When he did, it was a smile that didn't belong to him anymore, and always ended in a feverish scrubbing at his hands. He didn't know the details of those dreams, though he could guess them. He knew enough not to ask.   
  
Besides, as nightmares went, he had his own. For him, a bad night meant his mother and an axe. It came from different directions--sometimes it began with a warm fleshy woman on top of him, sometimes he was five and had been very bad. Each time it was as terrifying as the first. After so many years, he could almost feel them coming, the way farmers could smell rain.   
  
Apparently, so could the monk. On the nights that Sanzo felt were bad, he simply didn't sleep. Instead, he would stay up and smoke, then appear in the morning, red-eyed, deathly pale and foul-tempered. What kind of dreams could cause a man to do that? He never wanted to know.  
  
It looked to be one of those nights. Having gone upstairs when Hakkai's comments seemed to wander a little too innocently towards the events of the morning, Sanzo had then pointedly refused to be baited into stepping outside the room. He stood at the window now, smoking and looking at a cloudy half moon, three crumpled ends already lying at his feet. To Sanzo, the world was his ashtray.   
  
Hakkai sometimes said (in that way which made you wonder if he was joking) that if they took more than three years to reach Tenjiku, they would all fall to lung disease. But Sanzo could still move without hard breathing and his voice was clear and strong. He smoked two packs a day but if he was addicted, it didn't show; he'd seen him go without for more than a day.   
  
It seemed to be one of those little ways in which the monk was able to cheat, like being a holy man who could drink beer and eat meat. Like being sarcastic and beautiful and violent and still, somehow, a Good Guy. You had to hand it to him. He had an uncompromising attitude towards Life, which was famously full of compromises. And so far, he'd gotten away with it.  
  
Take, for example, the way they went West. There were many roads that led toward Tenjiku, but Sanzo had chosen none. Instead, they charted their travel in a straight line, due west, and took the roads as they came. He didn't argue when Sanzo said that this way saved time. He was no cartographer, and for all he knew, Sanzo might be right. But he had a sneaking suspicion that Fate wouldn't take kindly to such travel plans. Fate liked curves.  
  
Beside him, Hakkai bedded down for the night, seemingly resigned to letting the matter slide. Clever, gentle Hakkai also knew the signs of a bad night, and had lived long enough to know that talk, unlike milk, will not spoil if you let it stand until morning. The fire was dying, leaving them in darkness and the gleam from the window. He let his mind drift where it would, knowing that sleep was like a stubborn woman: call it and it never came, but pretend to ignore it and sooner or later it would sidle over with a gleam in its eye.  
  
His last thought was of Sanzo, reaching through bars of moonlight to free a hungry child.  
  
............................................  
  
The monk roused them almost an hour earlier than usual, and even Hakkai yawned as they prepared to go. One look at the shadows beneath his eyes sufficed to quiet all complaints; not even Goku was oblivious enough to risk Sanzo's anger after a bad night. The innkeeper was already up and had packed them a generous day's worth of meals, having checked their credit last night and found it good. They set off in Jeep as the sun began to rise, filling the spaces between the trees with fire. This time, Goku was the first one in.  
  
The early light was too weak to filter through the layers of branches over head, and they drove carefully in the dim light along the narrow road, which was no more than a simple path worn flat by the passage of hooves and their herders. Eventually they came into denser forest, where the dark boles of pine trees rose all around. Here, hewn stumps squatted at both sides of the road, which grew narrower.   
  
The air was moist, and Goku sniffed it.   
  
"There's a stream, somewhere ahead."  
  
"Aa, that must be where they usually take the animals to be watered," Hakkai said. "I'd wondered why the road was so well-packed." The scent of pine needles, leaf rot and cool earth rose to meet them from the surrounding wood. They had gone only a few miles when they felt a jolt, and a cheeping sound of distress came from under the hood. Jeep rumbled to a halt. Sanzo, who had been dozing stiffly upright in the manner of those uncomfortable with being seen sleeping, lifted an eyebrow.   
  
"I'll go see what it is," Hakkai said, a slight frown crossing his face as he climbed out. He circled the vehicle, then stopped and crouched down by the rear left tire. "Oh dear." He straightened up. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask everyone to step out for a moment."   
  
"What's happened? Is Hakuryuu ok?" Goku scrambled around to where Hakkai stood. "Hey! Look, the tire's punctured! Can you fix that?"  
  
"I can try," the response came, as green eyes fixed thoughtfully on the trembling white frame. "Hakuryuu, can you change? I'll try to make it better." Almost immediately, the vehicle began to shrink, the mass melting away until only a little white dragon lay in the middle of the road.   
  
"Good boy--no, don't try to fly--let me see first." Hakkai scooped up the small body gently, and eyes like ruby chips fixed on him mournfully as the hind left foot was held out for inspection. One talon was broken and bleeding. "I think I can make it better. I hope our bodies are similar enough to use the same kind of energy. Hold still, now." His brow creased wih concentration, and a small white line of energy crept out of his fingertip, winding itself around the dragon's foot. Slowly, it pulled tighter, until it vanished into the skin. The bleeding stopped, and the nail mended.   
  
Hakuryuu flexed its toes twice, then launched itself out of the hands and flew around Hakkai's head, nipping at his hair affectionately. He laughed. "Guess that did it."  
  
"What's this?" Goku was holding something in his hands, turning it over. "Ouch!" He dropped it, and sucked at a finger. "It's sharp."   
  
Gojyo reached down and picked it up gingerly. "What the fuck? This ain't no pinecone. Who left this lying around? This must be what Jeep blew his tire on." He examined it. It was made of metal, four spikes twisted together in a way so that no matter how it fell, one spike was cruelly pointing up.   
  
"Look, there's more up here!" Goku had gone several feet ahead. "Wow, a whole bunch of them! Who would leave something like this lying around?"  
  
"Nobody who means well," snapped Sanzo. "Give me that!" He snatched the object from Gojyo's hands, ignoring his outraged protest. "It's a caltrop," he said, "and it certainly never fell from a tree, or without a reason."   
  
Hakkai glanced up suddenly, and all eyes followed his.   
  
"I don't see anything," Goku ventured.   
  
Hakkai shook his head. "Don't look. Listen."  
  
"But I don't hear anything either!"  
  
"Exactly. Just now the birds all went quiet."   
  
He was right. There was a sudden hush that made all of them tense and reach for their weapons. For one long moment nothing came, and then out of nowhere a knife buried itself in a tree trunk just to the left of Sanzo's head.   
  
"Get down! And scatter!" he shouted, and they all ducked and rolled with the automatic reaction of those who know that it is better to present a smaller and preferably moving target. "They're all in the trees!" As he headed away from the bare exposure of the road, he spotted movement from the corner of his eye and felt the rippling ki of murderous intent wash over him. Without stopping to look back, he fired over his shoulder, and was rewarded by a screech and a crackle of impact, as of a body hitting undergrowth below.  
  
There's one, he thought grimly. But how many were left? The forest was thick and he dodged behind a trunk, shooting at two more shapes that came leaping through the trees. They moved with a speed and silence that was positively uncanny, and something about their coloring made them difficult to see. He could track them by the bending of the branches as they moved, but by then they were somewhere in between. He squinted to see if he'd hit any, then began running again as two arrows thumped into the ground by his feet.   
  
His mind worked furiously as he stumbled through the knee-high ferns. Every few moments, the whistle-zip of an arrow would sound and a shaft would land, sometimes in the dirt and sometimes in a tree, but always close. He had the feeling that they were toying with him, almost, and he didn't like it at all.   
  
Got to stand and fight, he thought, I won't last long like this. Ahead of him it grew brighter; the trees seemed to thin into a small clearing. He wondered if it would help him to escape the trees. He couldn't see well enough to shoot in this thick cover.  
  
One the other hand, that meant exposing himself first. And he made target, to their several. He looked back once more and fired at a figure perched on a bough. It leaped straight up, but not fast enough. Twisting with a shriek as a bullet caught it in the leg, it missed the branch on the way down.   
  
As he turned to run, an arrow hissed so close to his ear the fletching cut into his cheek. He threw himself forward into a diving roll. Fleetingly he felt his shoulder strike a rock, and then the ground fell away abruptly into a slope he hadn't seen. He looked down wildly as he slid, his feet lashing out for purchase, feeling skin and clothes tear on rock and root. He was headed straight towards a large creek.   
  
The thought flashed through his head. The water ran almost twenty feet wide, and no trees grew immediately over its steep bank. Once he crossed the water, he would have a clear shot at his attackers as they came over the crest.   
  
If he survived the crossing. Surging to his feet, he desperately tried to keep his legs ahead of his nose as gravity carried him down at a plunging run. He hit the water and lost his balance at the same time, feeling a hot wrench of pain in his left foot as he flailed for a moment before staggering towards the low bank and its fringe of trees. Cursing his sodden robes, he expected every moment for an arrow to arrive in the small of his back. To his amazement, he gained the cover of the other bank before the first shape appeared.   
  
"All right, my turn," he snarled and picked it off before it could so much as start down the slope. Two more dodged back behind the trees, having seen what had happened to their more precipitate comrade. Then, as he was taking aim, he saw another further downstream, trying to sneak its way across. "Oho," he muttered, changed direction, and fired. The figure toppled back into the water with a splash.  
  
The remaining attackers had vanished. Gone back for reinforcements or fled, it was hard to say. He thought he could hear shouts; perhaps the other three had caught up and were sorting them out. They would get one alive, if they were lucky. There had been too many attacks lately. He wondered if one more had joined the ranks of those out for their skin, or whether Gyokumen was simply bored.  
  
At any rate, he now had time to breathe. His shoulder was welling blood from a gash and his robes were sodden. He wiped a hand across his bleeding cheek, still struggling not to gasp great gulps of air, and swore once more to cut down on the cigarettes. The shouts came once more, closer, and he could now make out his name. Limping a little--it seemed he'd twisted his ankle when he'd stumbled into the creek--he went forward to meet them.  
  
Above him he heard a slight rustle, but felt no wind...  
  
There was just time for him to bring one arm up before his attacker crashed down. There was a metallic impact and the gun was knocked out of his hands, and then breath was knocked out of his lungs and the world was full of grinning teeth and claws and blood. He clawed back desperately, struggling to keep the teeth and limbs away from his face and throat. Wrenching his knee up he tried to flip himself over, and succeeded in driving a glancing blow beneath the ribs. As it flinched he rocked up and butted squarely in between the gleeful eyes. It howled and clutched its nose, and he threw it off and scrambled upright.   
  
The gun, the gun--he knew what direction it'd gone, but not where. He stumbled and then saw, on the ground, the knife that had slid off his weapon and apparently sliced down his arm. The cut was pouring, his sleeve felt full already. Knowing that his attacker was already back on his feet, he bent down and swiped it. Turning back, arm dripping, he gritted, "Just _die_ already."   
  
"You first, bouzu," came the answer. The voice was shockingly sane, the smile passably so. It was the eyes that were the problem. But his focus was trapped somewhere lower. He wondered briefly if it would be of any use to try and throw the knife.   
  
It always surprised him, the way time would slow down. How everything moved like it was trapped in treacle. Eyes saw everything, and he took in the shape of his attacker, smaller and leaner and hunched, built like a jumper. Ears took in the crackle of footsteps, the hurried shouts. They were coming, but he knew they would be late. Seconds from death, but the senses stretched those seconds slow.   
  
The clawed hands lifted. They held his gun. He saw them squeeze the trigger, felt his muscles bunch hopelessly in the attempt to dodge a bullet coming from six feet away--  
  
He felt, rather than heard the cry. Something crashed into him, and suddenly the smell of the forest floor was in his face. He had a brief sense of deja vu, just before he passed out.   
  
.............................................  
  
*whew* i'm no good at writing action. arrgh, the problems of having a grand, overarching scheme of things and absolutely NO details to fill it in... -_-;; man, when will i get to throw in some yaoi?? 


	4. Tell Lies

ok, i rewrote the ending of part 2, because it kinda left something out. sorry if you found the POV confusing, gallatica!! hopefully it's a little clearer now...so go back and eyeball that before you take a look at this one! =)  
  
with luck and midnight oil some more plot will happen in this chapter. as you all will have guessed, Sanzo is...not dead. how could i? ^^  
  
-----------------------------------------------  
  
He was careful about waking up. There were times when it didn't pay to race your way back into consciousness. He could feel pain, which he expected. When you woke up without having gone to sleep, there was almost always pain. Identifying as much sensation as he could without moving, he found a throb in his left foot, a steady hot ache from his right arm, lacerations on the chest and pain when he breathed. Yes. There was definitely a broken rib somewhere.  
  
So far, so good. He listened.  
  
Quiet. Not the quiet of dungeons or laboratories, but the kind of quiet filled with muffled noises. The ordinary kind you get in a room when people know there is a Very Sick Person trying to recuperate because Hakkai has explained it to them.  
  
He opened his eyes.  
  
"Well, look who's up." Gojyo's long red hair swung into view. "And how was your nap?"  
  
"Shut...the fuck up...and get me a cigarette," he rasped, and struggled to his elbows. His mouth felt like it had been packed in cotton wool. The request had been reflex. What he really wanted was a drink. Or four.  
  
Gojyo's lean frame straightened up. "Nope." His voice was smug. "Hakkai's forcing me to cut down, and if I don't get my Hi-Lites, ain't _nobody_ going to get a smoke. Especially you, your wheezy holiness. Hakkai already went and mended your busted-up ribs, but he said that you managed to nick a lung, and he wasn't sure how well he healed that."  
  
He flexed his fingers, wincing a bit. "I see he closed the cut," he said, forcing the words through his dry throat.  
  
"Yeah, he did that even before the ribs. Said he had to stop you from bleeding to death first." Gojyo sauntered to the door, waving him back without looking.  
  
"You can just stay right there, O Invalid-sama, whilst I fetch those concerned with your wellbeing." He looked around before he slipped out, adding, "It's about time you woke up, too. Any longer and I'dve had to shoot the monkey. But Hakkai said one gunshot at a time was enough, even for that invincible idiot."  
  
He lay back the second the door closed. He couldn't have been out long, or Hakkai would've done a more thorough job on his injuries. One day, maybe? Two? It was hard to concentrate. His energy felt like it was draining out through his fingertips.  
  
Even with Hakkai doing his best, they hadn't even properly recovered from the encounter with Kami-sama yet; ki was no substitute for bedrest and natural recovery. But from the look of things, that was how it was going to be as they got further West.  
  
At this rate, in a few more weeks they'd be ambushed about once every ten minutes.  
  
He closed his eyes at the thought, then opened them as he heard a polite knock. Hakkai, then. Goku would have hammered (he'd managed to bash a few basic rules into that thick head in their three years at the temple), while Gojyo didn't knock at all. Said it was his dearest wish to catch "Sanzo- sama" masturbating.  
  
Just thinking of it deepened his scowl. But Hakkai had healed him and probably dragged his unconscious body back to the inn, and so gratitude was in order. Accordingly, he tried not to look too murderous as their driver and healer stepped in.  
  
"Ah, you are up. How was your nap?"  
  
The hell with that, he decided. "Do something about this desert in my mouth." he croaked.  
  
"Goodness, of course you're thirsty. I do apologize," the man said cheerfully, not sounding the least bit apologetic. He turned to a pitcher that stood upon a stand near the door and poured a cup. "Oops, don't snatch--you'll make it spill."  
  
He gulped the liquid, too thirsty to stand on dignity, and held out the cup as he wiped his lips. "More." Hakkai took the cup from him, green eyes suddenly serious. As he refilled it, he spoke, back turned.  
  
"It was a little different this time, don't you think?"  
  
"They were trying to kill us. What's so different about that?" He waited for the cup impatiently, while his mind turned over the words, looking for hidden meanings. The youkai had been more intelligent, more organized than he'd expected. Could they have been from a separate group? Distinct from Kougaiji and Gyokumen's clan?  
  
Hakkai faced him. "You were in serious danger at that time." The words were calm, free of emotion. What was the man getting at?  
  
"It's in the job description. I shouldn't have underestimated them." He was angry at himself for the oversight. He'd been so intent on looking for an attack from the other side of the stream that it hadn't occured to him that someone might have been already there.  
  
Hakkai sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. It was a surprisingly natural gesture, one that didn't seem to fit him. Odd how you could kill a man, but leave his ghost in the body. "We all did, didn't we? Look at me."  
  
He looked. "What's the matter? You seem unhurt."  
  
Hakkai handed him the water. "Exactly. Gojyo and I," he emphasized the names slightly, "were totally unwounded. They didn't even come after us. The same could've been said of Goku, except--" His eyes strayed to the door. With the step of a cat, he moved to pull it open with a swift tug. A startled yelp and a tumble of limbs fell through the suddenly empty frame.  
  
"It's alright to come in," Hakkai said with a smile, "He's not going to disappear. Ne, Sanzo?"  
  
He snorted, and sipped at the water, letting it trickle down his aching throat.  
  
"Ow." The boy was wearing his loose shirt, the most convenient clothing he had for whenever he needed bandages. He rubbed his elbow and looked up at Hakkai from the floor. "You didn't have to do that!" he accused.  
  
"Weren't you eager to see how he was?" Hakkai asked sweetly, as if it were all the excuse he needed.  
  
Goku grumbled, but crept to the bed, looking at its occupant as if he truly were afraid that Sanzo would disappear. "Naa...Sanzo...y'feelin' better?"  
  
He didn't feel like looking at those eyes. "Of course not, you idiot. It hurts less when I'm asleep." He set the cup down and crossed his arms. "You got yourself hurt, didn't you."  
  
Goku squirmed in place, something he could do with a minimum of actual movement. He just managed to radiate the sense that he was fidgeting madly. No amount of hitting was going to teach him how to stand still properly. "It's not like I did it on purpose," he burst out. "And besides, it's not bad."  
  
Without a flicker on his face he reached out and belted him across the stomach.  
  
"Ah, I wouldn't--" Hakkai said hastily, then stopped.  
  
Goku's face had gone paler than he'd expected. For a moment it looked as if it was all he could do to stay upright.  
  
"It was the gun, you see," Hakkai explained, hurrying over to lift the shirt and look at the bandages. "Your bullets seem to have a few special...properties."  
  
The last instant flashed back. That youkai, facing him with his own gun in those hands. There had been a scream--an impact--and then he'd been in the dirt. A mental picture formed in his head, and he suppressed the urge to strangle the boy. Hakkai stood between them, still fussing with him.  
  
"Look, you've started the bleeding again," he was saying with a touch of warm exasperation. "Didn't I tell you to be careful?"  
  
"But SANZO's the one who hit me!! And just now you let me fall on the floor!"  
  
"Ah, but that was different," and then one eye closed behind the monocle and a small web of light was closing over the growing patch of blood. He released Goku with a pat on the back. "That should hold it for now, but you must keep still. It's healing very slowly already." The last words were directed with a bit of reproach at the bed.  
  
He wasn't about to be deterred. "You let him shoot you?? With my gun? Are you a total fool? You know that it has anti-youkai properties!"  
  
"There wasn't any other way!" Goku shot back, stung. "He would've shot you?"  
  
"I'm not a youkai," he retorted. "Even if he'd shot me, Hakkai could've healed me. There wasn't any need to interfere."  
  
"Actually, that may not be true," Hakkai put in. "If he'd gotten you through the heart, or even the lungs, I may not have been able to do anything in time." Sanzo threw him a black look, and he smiled. "Try not to break your ribs again soon, Sanzo-san. We don't want the bone becoming brittle, do we?" Sounding every bit the soul of benevolence, he left the room.  
  
The two of them stared carefully away for a moment. His fists were clenched, and he unclenched them.  
  
"I'm going to tell you two things," he said. "And I'm not going to say them again. So listen up."  
  
Goku's sharp little face jerked up, unwillingly.  
  
"First," he enunciated clearly, "the gun is even stupider than you." He was grateful to the bandages. Otherwise nothing would have stopped him from looking. Was it a graze or had it been a gut wound? There was none of the stink of gangrene, but it was too early to tell.  
  
"The bullets don't differentiate between youkai. So. Don't. Ever. Get. In. Their. Way." He looked at the defiant set of the shoulders and the thrust-out chin, and ground out between his teeth, "Even for me." The boy nodded, reluctantly. He wanted to tear out his hair. Three years of screaming and smacking and now, you could only hope he would listen.  
  
"Second. Go get me a beer, and some cigarettes. Now." The boy blinked, and stared. "What are you waiting for? I said GO."  
  
Goku fled. But just at the door he paused, and looked back. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you and get away with it," and it was a child's words and a child's voice, but with five hundred years' worth of force behind it.  
  
Then he went.  
  
.................................................  
  
"Where ya goin' with all that, monkey boy?" He leaned against the hallway, long leg stuck out casually at an angle to trip.  
  
"Outta my way, you horny toad," his younger companion muttered and leaped over the obstacle. "S'for Sanzo."  
  
"Sanzo doesn't need a whole six-pack or two dozen smokes. Least, not as bad as I do." He made a swipe for the goods and missed, Goku having ducked away with his matchless reflexes.  
  
The boy danced down the hall, yelling, "I'll tell Hakkai if you smoke!!"  
  
Irritated, he snapped back, "Go ahead! He's not my wife!"  
  
A voice said behind his ear, "And what a good thing it is, too." He whirled, hands raised defensively.  
  
"Oi, I was just teasing, I wouldn't really have..."  
  
"I'm sure you wouldn't," Hakkai agreed in tones of cheerful steel.  
  
He glanced back once more as the door to Sanzo's room clicked shut. "Is he going to be ok, you think?"  
  
"If you mean Sanzo, definitely. He just needs a little more rest, and I'll patch him up once more before we hit the road. If you mean Goku..." he trailed off, and the smile fell from his face. "Do you remember that time when he lost his limiter in the desert?"  
  
He blew out his breath, recognizing Hakkai's style of leading questions. "I'm not about to forget it anytime soon. Too bad, too."  
  
"Were you awake when Sanzo finally stopped him?"  
  
He closed his eyes, tried to recall. "Don't think so," he said finally, shaking his head. "By the time I came to you were hauling us all into Jeep."  
  
Hakkai looked down the hall to the door. "I thought he was going to use his gun. I truly did. It seemed like the only chance we had at the point, to be honest." He sighed, and Gojyo understood. He had his own failure to recount, after all. At least Hakkai had been awake that long.  
  
"Now I know why he didn't. He may have been afraid of this."  
  
At that, Gojyo grabbed his shoulders. "Hey! It's not that serious, is it?" His friend's face was unreadable.  
  
"We can only hope so. I've closed off the internal bleeding and there doesn't seem to be any infection, but the wound is being slow to close. It's almost more like a burn than a bullet hole, the skin stays raw no matter what I do."  
  
Reading the currents under the words, he relaxed his grip. "Hey, hey," he soothed. "It's not your fault. Don't worry, the brat's got a lifeline longer than the gods and he's been through worse than this. He'll be ok. Worst case scenario, he goes off his feed for a coupla days, and that don't sound so bad to me."  
  
Hakkai laughed, a forced sound, and shrugged him off. "You're right, of course," he said with his usual cheeriness, "It's foolish for me to worry. He's at the peak of his regenerative powers, which are certainly better than any I've ever seen."  
  
"Kids bounce," was his short reply. Unnecessary guilt aside, he wanted his cigarettes.  
  
"You really think so?" Hakkai asked curiously. "That he's a kid?"  
  
"Of course!" He snorted. "What else could he be?"  
  
"Apart from five-hundred years old and a powerful youkai?" Hakkai smiled, but not mockingly. "Do you know, I wonder..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"...Do you think he'll grow up?"  
  
He stopped rubbing his fingers together absently. "Dunno. He stayed young in the cave for all those years, didn't he?"  
  
"Yes, but I wonder if that counts, or if it was merely part of his punishment." Hakkai sounded thoughtful and for a moment he imagined it, year upon year upon year of cold and loneliness and grief without even the prospect of death to take it all away. He shuddered. The brown-haired scholar went on, "It seems to me that he's gotten older even in the time since we've met."  
  
"He certainly eats like a growing boy," he muttered, to make up for the pang of sympathy he'd felt a moment ago.  
  
Hakkai laughed, more easily this time. "He does, doesn't he?" He turned his gaze back onto the door. It was his contemplative look, the one when he used to figure things out. Like people. The monk had a voice that blew away your doubts and when he wanted to, could use his eyes to see into your soul. But Hakkai could look and see into your mind. He was glad that he was so rarely the target of that gaze, and when he was, it wasn't looking into the parts that he feared.  
  
He wondered if there was anything he could see into. It didn't seem like it. He couldn't even see under the smile, sometimes.  
  
His palms itched for a cigarette.  
  
...................................................................  
  
He thought that someone came in and looked at him, in his sleep. But his eyelids were too heavy to lift, thanks to the drink Hakkai had given him, and before he could get ahold of the impression it had slipped away and he'd sunk back into his dreams. They were less than pleasant, and he was almost grateful when someone shook him awake.  
  
It was dark, and he had to squint before he could make out Hakkai's face, which was looking worried. He experienced a sinking feeling in his gut.  
  
"Sanzo-san? Have you seen Goku? He's nowhere to be found."  
  
The door opened and threw a rectangle of wavering light on the floor. "The brat ran away," stated Gojyo, striding over. "Again." The slight grimness of his tone betrayed his anxiety. "He said he was just going out to look for food."  
  
"It was two hours after dinner, so we believed him," Hakkai broke in. "But we've searched the town and he hasn't come back--"  
  
"--And Nyoibu's gone," finished Gojyo in disgust. "We oughta tie a rope to that kid."  
  
His head spun. Goku? Gone? At this time of night? There was only one reason he could have gone, and as he digested it, he heard Gojyo say something he didn't understand.  
  
"Well, at least we know he's grown up enough to lie."  
  
----------------------------------------  
  
tbc!!!! gaaahh, how many chapters will this be? i hope your interest isn't flagging yet, because the end, if in sight, is definitely way off on the horizon ^^;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; Again, sf, gallatica, Krimson, X-parrot, labrynth, thanks so much for your encouragement!!!! and sorry this chapter took so long...as i whined, i lost the first half to a thunderstorm o_0;;;;;;;;  
  
and woohoo!!! thanks to sf and X-parrot for updating their respective works!! ganbatte minna-san!! (as for you, ultraM, makibishi wa donna mono mo yoku wakaranai kara kimi ga warukunakatta. *grin* nobody can butcher japanese like me.)  
  
one last plea: won't someone go read my menkui fic? i know nobody's ever heard of the manga, but i'm submitting it to a contest and really wish i had some feedback...i swear if you do, i'll update faster...and thank you sooooooo much.... 


	5. Downstream

quantum asked about this (but i bet you're all wondering.) the title actually comes from the verse that opens up the first chapter. it'll be continued throughout the story, a verse at a time, just like the little narrative blurbs. and hopefully they'll do something like express a theme. in fact, the next verse comes...right now =)  
  
......................................................................  
  
But I must warn you well, my lad  
  
This world holds more than merely charm  
  
For hearts there are, as hard as stone  
  
And if you leave, you'll come to harm  
  
......................................................................  
  
"I'm afraid you aren't ready to travel yet." He said the words as neutrally as possible, then pasted on his patience and waited.  
  
"THE HELL I'M NOT!"  
  
It would've been more effective, he thought in the private, amused corner of his mind, if Sanzo hadn't doubled into a coughing fit immediately afterwards. The man was, without a doubt, the worst patient he'd ever had. Maybe even the worst he'd ever seen.  
  
He tried again, placatingly, "Please, be reasonable. You only woke up a few hours ago. There's only so much healing I can force in a day. It's only been three hours, how far can he have gone? The two of us will be able to find him just fine."  
  
"Cyclops here is right, bouzu," Gojyo drawled. "You can barely walk, let alone fight. What're ya gonna do if we get ambushed, huh? Glare 'em to death?" He ducked and somewhere behind him, the wooden cup hit the wall with a loud hollow sound. He glanced at Hakkai. "See, I told ya it was a good idea to take his gun."  
  
At that the wounded man actually staggered with rage. He advanced on them, the look on his face alarming even in the darkness of the room. Gojyo edged carefully towards the door.  
  
He didn't budge. "For once, Gojyo is right. I must insist you stay. You are not made of steel, Sanzo, and if you continue to be reckless you'll endanger yourself and the quest." As he'd expected, Sanzo stopped.  
  
They all knew that it was Sanzo's quest. He'd gotten the order from the Three Aspects. They also knew that calling a man the leader and following him were two different things. They'd chosen him, as he had chosen them. And one of the reasons was because he rarely lost his head. His temper, oh yes. Terrible tantrums. But never to the point where he could not listen.  
  
He hoped the man was listening now. "Sanzo, stay here and rest. Or you'll undo everything I've done, and waste the sacrifice Goku made when he took that bullet for you." The monk hesitated, taking silent stock of his injuries, and he could see how much it was costing him to consider his own weakness.  
  
More bitter than death was the pain of being helpless. The scar of it ran deep, ached like old bones when it rained. Just now, he knew, something more than reasoning was needed. There was no way now to drug the fuming invalid into insensibility. But perhaps there were other ways to soothe. He looked at Sanzo's mind, peeled back the layers.  
  
Underneath them all, lay fear.  
  
"If you stay... if you stay, I swear that I'll bring him back." He said the words slowly, like counting gold into a miser's hand, letting the other man weigh them. A soft murmur of surprise came from Gojyo. Sanzo looked at him for a moment in the low, flickering torchlight, searching his face, perhaps, for a hint of a smile. Then he turned and sat back on the bed, heavily, and steadied himself with one arm.  
  
"Then go," Sanzo said finally. "But I want my gun back."  
  
"And you shall have it," he said, pleasant once more. "After all, you may need to defend yourself while we're gone."  
  
"Defend me from the idiots I travel with, that's all I ask," came from the darkness as the monk lay back down.  
  
"There's a good boy," said the half-breed, emboldened once more. "We'll be back in no time, the monkey's got short legs." There was just time his eyebrows to raise in surprise at the lack of offense before Gojyo went on with a grin, "You could pray for our safety, if you think it would help."  
  
"Don't push it. I won't be an invalid forever," was all he got in response.  
  
They walked back out and shut the door, then looked at each other. "You really think that'll hold him?" Gojyo asked softly. He could only nod.  
  
"What about the gun?"  
  
"I'll have the innkeeper give it to him after we leave."  
  
The redhead sounded dubious. "Is that safe? What if he nicks it or something?"  
  
"Then we'll get it from him when we come back, and ask for an apology," he said mildly. Gojyo grinned, and they went back to their room. He bent down and nudged the small white mound at the foot of his bed gently. "I'm very sorry, Hakuryuu, but I'm afraid we need you." The small, triangular head emerged from under one wing, blinking sleepily at him. It beeped inquisitively.  
  
"That's right," he said. "I'm sorry, it's just for tonight. We'll let you sleep late tomorrow." The dragon shook out his slender neck and yawned, then unfolded his wings with a snap. A short spring and a flap later it was seated on his shoulder, stiff white hairs tickling as it nuzzled into the warmth of his neck. "Ready?"  
  
They made their way down to the yard, looking for the innkeeper. There was a slight commotion by the stables, and then the man walked out arguing with another guest, his manner distraught.  
  
"Really, I'm sure there's been some mistake--We keep a stableboy on watch at all times--"  
  
"Then where's this boy of yours, eh? Have you told him to run away with my horse? There's a man out there says he saw a boy on a horse two hours ago, heading for the road."  
  
The innkeeper began to swell with indignation, eyes bulging in the torchlight. "Now, sir! Are you accusing me of having stolen your nag?"  
  
"Nag?" the irate guest spluttered. "That's a right smart animal, he even knows his way home, and he's worth more than a racehorse anyday!"  
  
"More than a race horse?" His voice had gone up another notch. "That slow old beast? I don't know where the wretched boy has gone,but I promise you that when I find him, he'll get a thrashing for his neglect, the lazy good- for-nothing!"  
  
"I know just how he feels," muttered Gojyo beside him. "Hakkai, are you sure you want to give this man a gun?"  
  
"Perhaps this is not the time," he agreed. "Though it's surprising there'd be a horse theft in these parts." It was close to harvest time, and the majority of the population was hard at work in the fields. There were few guests at the inn, besides themselves. It hardly seemed likely for the stableboy to have been the culprit. He had an impression of a round, dull- eyed face and a snub nose, gaping as they parked Jeep in the front. But if they had seen a boy on the horse...  
  
In the back of his mind a possibility dropped, clanging with truth. His eyes widened with alarm. He whirled towards Gojyo. "Does Goku know how to ride?"  
  
The halfbreed's mouth fell open. "You're joking," he said blankly. "You don't think...?"  
  
Without another word, he dashed into the stables, Gojyo on his heels. The place was dark, lit only by a small oil lamp, and the smell of horse and moldy hay kicked at the nose. The occasional nicker or snort came from the stalls as they searched. Feverishly they kicked aside piles of straw, pails and old blankets. In the shadows of the last stall, they found the stableboy, half-hidden under an empty grain sack.  
  
He scanned the boy anxiously for injuries. He seemed to be only sleeping. Gojyo seized the shirt of the short, stocky boy and began to shake him. "Oi! You! Wake up and tell us if you saw the monkey!" A small white object rolled out of one limp hand. Gojyo dropped the boy, who flopped back like a doll. "What's that?"  
  
He picked it up. It was a meatbun, half-gnawed. But there was something in the middle that didn't look like quite like gristle--he peered at it in the dim light, and stifled a groan. He pulled it out and turned to Gojyo, whose face wrinkled with disgust.  
  
"What the--"  
  
"It's one of my opiates, the strongest I've got. After all, you couldn't have expected him to hurt the boy."  
  
Gojyo's face mirrored the shock he felt inside, as he sat back on his heels. "Stop messin' with me. Are you sure we're talking about the monkey here? You're telling me that the idiot ape snuck into your room..."  
  
Nod.  
  
"...stole sleeping pills from your medicine chest..."  
  
Nod.  
  
"...tricked somebody and GAVE UP FOOD? Just so he could steal a horse he doesn't know how to ride? To go off after youkai in the middle of the night? Leaving his precious half-dead Sanzo behind?"  
  
Nod nod.  
  
They sat visualizing it for a few moments, until he spoke the words that were on both their minds. "If he could give up food, who knows what else he might do?"  
  
They looked at each other, then scrambled to their feet, yelling almost in unison, "Innkeeper!!"  
  
.........................................................  
  
He'd seen people riding horses. It hadn't seemed that hard. You just sort of sat on them and they did the work, right? And he'd even thought of getting the boy to put the equipment on first, so there were ropes on the head so you could steer. And it had a seat. But there were things about riding horses which made them definitely different from and infinitely less preferable to riding Jeep. He wished he'd known about them in advance.  
  
Nobody had said anything about how horses smelled. Up close, his sensitive nose had almost twitched with the desire to get away. They'd passed horses before, of course, and he'd smelled them in the fields of the more prosperous villages. But being on top of a big, rank, sweaty animal was like, well, being on top of a big rank sweaty animal. He wondered if he'd ever be able to smell food again.  
  
And nobody had ever told him how TALL horses were. They looked ok from a distance, sure. Up close they looked like they could step on you, and pretty hard at that. It had taken him six or seven tries to even get on the thing, even with it just standing in its stall. Finally he'd cheated and used a crate. He'd wound up far higher off the ground than he'd liked.  
  
The horse hadn't cooperated either. Even with the saddle on the seat was slippery, and the stupid animal just kept moving. Once he had pulled its hair hard, trying to stay on, and then it had turned its head and blew back its lips, revealing a whole mouthful of big white teeth. They weren't maybe the scariest teeth he'd ever seen--not pointed, or dripping blood-- but he didn't want them coming too close, for all of that. So he squeezed as much back as he could between his knees and clung for dear life.  
  
The worst, though, had to be the bouncing. Once out of the stables, he hadn't been too sure how to make it go. To his short-lived relief, it had started for the road on its own, breaking into a bone-jarring trot. Soon the movement made him forget all about the smell.  
  
After an hour it had felt like every part of him was bouncing against something else. His legs were thumping against the sides and his hips were thumping against the seat and his spine was jolting in his back. After two hours he wondered if his teeth were coming loose. His wound hurt so badly it felt like it was eating him.  
  
Maybe the bouncing wasn't the worst. No, what was worst was how it had its own mind. Jeep had its own mind too but always went wherever you told it too. Horses, apparently, were different. It kept stopping to nibble off bits of green on the side of the road. It was almost insulting, the way it could eat when he couldn't. He tried to pull the ropes to keep it going forward, but didn't dare to pull or kick hard, in case it got mad. Unlike Jeep, the horse didn't have a brake pedal.  
  
He gritted his teeth as they clopped on. It had been a stupid idea to start with, even if he had made better time than he could've on his own. And anyhow, he'd gone far enough on the road. The others would have noticed that he was gone by now, and were probably on his trail. He didn't have much time left to find the youkai and make his point.  
  
He was strong enough to protect Sanzo, even with the limiter. He was never going to let Sanzo need to be rescued again. He knew he could do it, as long as--  
  
As long as Sanzo didn't leave him behind.  
  
There was a silent rush of air, and for an instant an owl ghosted against the moon, talons clutched. He wished that he, too, had perfect night vision. The night was far from silent; there were rustles and chirps and croaks that had him constantly on edge. His mind told him that hardly anyone would set an ambush on the road at a time when everyone was sure to be in bed. But his eyes seemed to make out flickering shadows and lurking shapes everywhere.  
  
Think of something else, he urged himself. It wasn't hard. One thing was uppermost on his mind: Sanzo was going to be mad. He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought. Sanzo was definitely going to be mad. He'd lied to them, and drugged the boy, and stolen a horse, and gone off on his own. Maybe if he found and killed all the youkai--  
  
Sanzo would still be mad. Maybe he would be even madder. He groaned. He could almost hear it now. Stupid ape, he would say. Waste of time. The bandage was starting to clump. He was definitely bleeding again. So Hakkai would probably be mad, too.  
  
No matter. He was already here, wasn't he? He'd do what he'd come to do first. Everything else would come later, if he was lucky.  
  
The road was starting to narrow, and he raised his head. Sure enough, he caught the faintest whiff of pine, and felt a small sense of relief. He'd been afraid he wouldn't be able to find the place; by moonlight everything looked distorted and unfamiliar, even after his eyes adjusted to the dark.  
  
But he was positive they'd been attacked in the middle of a grove of pines, near the water. He remembered running over the dried needles that carpeted the ground. He remembered being scratched by the short, thin trees that clustered around the rough trunks of the larger ones as he'd crashed through them, seeking to draw out the attackers. Only to realize that there were none.  
  
They'd all been after Sanzo.  
  
And he'd nearly been too late, almost hadn't found him in time. His mouth went dry at the thought and he swallowed, made himself think of Sanzo back at the inn, bandaged and resting and safe. Safe. Just find the running water, he told himself, and you'll be close.  
  
He wished Hakkai hadn't sent someone to pick up the caltrops. That would've made finding the right stretch of road easy. Then again...  
  
Just in case they'd missed one, he swung one leg over and slid awkwardly off the horse, wincing as the movement stretched the wound. He landed in the dirt road and stumbling forward, gasping with pain as a thousand needles seemed to stab into his legs. His back felt numb, and his feet refused to listen. The horse, noticing that it had lost its rider, turned around and whuffed. The noise made him feel suddenly exposed. He backed away unsteadily from the hooves and teeth, hands up.  
  
"Good horse...good horse," he said desperately. "Now, go back. Tell Laifu- kun I'm sorry, ok? I didn't want to have to trick him or anything." He couldn't tell if it understood or not, but after it circled him once it began to crop the grass at the side of the road. He began to feel desperate. "Go back, ok? Otherwise he might get into trouble, even if it wasn't his fault." He sidled closer and slapped the horse lightly on its rump.  
  
The beast lifted its head and gave him a look, deep-eyed and slow. Turning, almost as if deliberately, and trotted back in the direction they had come. He heaved a sigh of relief and massaged his back, wincing. The sound of hooves on packed earth faded with surprising speed, and soon all he could hear was the self-important croaking of frogs. He took a deep breath, pulling Nyoibu out from the strap on his back, stamping his feet in an attempt to restart circulation  
  
On either side of him lay deep woods. Yesterday, he'd gone to the right, and had crossed back when things had started to feel wrong. Sanzo had been surprised by an attack on the far side of the creek, which meant that the youkai had been stationed on that side of the road. It was too bad they hadn't taken any prisoners. He'd smelled blood, but found no bodies, which meant that the wounded had escaped.  
  
Not that they had bothered to give chase. Everything seemed to have gone at triple speeds after he'd come up the bank and seen the two of them, the youkai getting ready to fire. He'd slammed into Sanzo and then felt, faintly, that second impact. When he'd scrambled to his feet the shaku-jou was snaking around the attacker's neck, and Hakkai was putting his hands together. It ended so quickly that it was a shock to find out they'd still been late.  
  
The ride back in Jeep was a blur of anxiety. Gojyo had to have been at the wheel, because there had been Hakkai's voice frantically telling him to put pressure on his side while pouring a flow of energy into Sanzo's arm. The entire sleeve had been soaked with blood, the gash oozing angrily even as it was being healed.  
  
The worry had filled his mind, wondering if a man could live with that much blood gone into the dirt, his sleeve, pooling on the floor of Jeep. He'd struggled to sit up, twisting his neck to look at Sanzo even as Hakkai ripped away his shirt. The last thing he remembered was seeing was Hakkai's blood-speckled monocle as it loomed over him, hearing faintly "Thank gods, it missed the liver," and then feeling slippery fingers reach into his left side.  
  
The mass of agony in his midsection seemed to flare up at the recollection. He shook his head angrily. That was yesterday. This was today and he was fine now. Hakkai worried too much. He'd been hurt before. He would live. But first, he'd find them. They couldn't be far, not with wounded. He'd find them, somewhere downstream.  
  
He clenched his fists, and stepped off the road.  
  
..................................................................  
  
Jeep grumbled as it rolled along the road, its lights a narrow beam that divided the darkness. It seemed insufficient to illuminate, yet blinded them to everything outside of it. He drove steadily, counting miles in his head, the night breeze cool and slightly damp against his cheek.  
  
Beside him Gojyo stretched out. "Hells, I never get to ride shotgun. We should ditch the monk more often."  
  
He couldn't find anything to reply and for a while they drove in silence. Then,  
  
"Think he's gonna be okay?"  
  
Which one, he nearly asked, then rearranged his mind like Gojyo's. "If we don't take too long finding him, yes."  
  
Gojyo clasped his arms behind his back and stared at the narrowing slice of moon. "And if we do?"  
  
"Well, he could get lost, or start bleeding heavily, fall off and cause an internal hemorrhage, assuming he's still on the horse...supposedly these parts aren't too wild, but I suppose he could even get attacked by wolves."  
  
His friend lost composure. "Shit! All that and you promised Sanzo we'd bring him back all safe?"  
  
"I said we'd bring him back," he said tersely. "I didn't say he'd be all safe."  
  
Silence hung between them. Gojyo was the first to break it. He usually was.  
  
"What was he thinking, that idiot ape, pulling a crazy stunt like this? What's he trying to do, MAKE Sanzo kill him?"  
  
"I rather think it's something like the opposite." A fat moth batted into the windshield and crumpled off. The night was full of insect life, and the creatures that lived off of it, and the creatures who lived off of them. And somewhere in it all was a boy on a horse, looking for his enemies.  
  
Gojyo stared at him incredulously. "Not even the ape's that dumb. He had to have known this would drive Sanzo nuts, him going off like this. I mean, hell, forget Sanzo, when we find him the first thing I'm gonna do is take a crack at that thick head."  
  
He smiled. "You would, wouldn't you? And yet...here you are."  
  
"Here I am," the halfbreed agreed morosely. He pulled his feet off the dashboard. "Look at us. By all rights we should be drinking or sleeping by now, and instead we're out here. I bet you're still wiped out from healing the pair of 'em."  
  
He shrugged philosophically. "It's hard on all of us to do extra miles, even Jeep." Smiling, he added, "Perhaps we all should have stolen horses," and received a look from his companion questioning his sanity.  
  
"All I know is, I could really use a beer." Gojyo eyed him again, this time thoughtfully. A note of pleading crept into his voice. "Or, at least, a cigarette."  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?" The pleading was elbowed aside by outrage.  
  
"You've already had your ten for today," he said, brimming with equanimity.  
  
"You're a sadistic, stingy bastard, you know that?" Gojyo flopped back and pulled his headband over his eyes.  
  
"Oh, yes," he said cheerily. "Aren't you glad I'm not your wife?" The redhead was silent, refusing to rise to the bait, then lurched forward as the vehicle suddenly slowed.  
  
"What the--what was that for?"  
  
Turning off the engine, he put a finger to his lips. Gojyo took the hint and sat up. They both listened intently. A noise was approaching.  
  
Clip-clop, clip-clop...  
  
"It's him!" Gojyo squinted ahead, straining to make out a shape in the gloom.  
  
"Or someone else out for night air," he murmured. The hoofbeats came closer. Then it emerged from around a bend, and for a moment the moonlight fell clearly on the broad back of a rather shaggy horse.  
  
It was riderless.  
  
A number of scenarios, none of them pleasant, floated through his head on a wash of fear. He looked at Gojyo, who had clearly registered the implications himself. We're too late again, aren't we, said his closed eyes and clenched jaw.  
  
As the horse came closer he stared back at the bend in the road, which stayed stubbornly empty, and the words came unbidden to his lips. "...oh dear."  
  
The animal picked its way towards them, unaware of their panic. Relief trickled through him when he saw that it looked completely calm, unlathered. It didn't look as if its rider had been picked off in ambush, or as if it had been anywhere near a melee. It plodded past them, only lifting its muzzle to sniff briefly at them before moving on. They stood, immobilized by conjecture.  
  
He started. Gojyo had placed a hand on his arm. In the moonlight his eyes and hair looked almost black; his face seemed almost unfamiliar. "C'mon, let's go find him."  
  
He turned the key, and jammed down the pedal. The sudden roar cut off the sounds of the night, sweeping away everything but the two of them, and the road.  
  
................................................  
  
In the darkness of his room, Genjyo Sanzo stayed, as he had been told. But it could not have been said, with any degree of honesty, that he rested.  
  
................................................  
  
urk. another chapter, another tortuous lack of plot development... -_- incandescens, is there TOO much dialogue??  
  
anyhow...  
  
hallo minna!!!  
  
i would really like to thank all my reviewers for chapter three. seriously, you guys make my day. a lot of you are writers as well and know what it feels like to check your e-mail fifty times the day after you post *grin* so, here we go:  
  
UltraM2000: actually, Hakkai does use "Sanzo-san" somewhere in the manga! XD darned if i can remember where, but i only have 5-9 so it's somewhere in those--maybe in a flashback? prolly before all the boys got comfy with each other... anyhow, sf picked up on it too, so i'll be sure not to do it again.  
  
thank you, quantum, for your strong positive encouragement (you are spot on about the typos, i read them now and cringe. it's because i've started using wordpad, to avoid the annoying red squigglies i get under every name and japanese word. 'long day' was actually written on notepad *grin* i appreciate the detail of your feedback as much as its candor and warmth =) always glad of a fellow pratchett fan.  
  
Neko-Megami-sama, again, always nice to hear from you =) i liked this chapter too. surprisingly, it seems to have the best flow. of course, give me a few days and i'll pick all to pieces *laugh* but for now i'm happy.  
  
domo arigatou, gallatica, konzen and seacmber =) to the last, it's been a bloody long time since my first saiyuki post, so it's no wonder you haven't heard of me!  
  
and krimson, thanks for appreciating my prose! XD i can't believe something i wrote is getting read aloud to someone's co-worker...now that is true fame...seriously, that made me feel good. frankly, i like the ghost line too. (is it too shameless of me to say that?)  
  
K. Firefly, Goku has indeed "run away." sorry if that seemed confusing =) Sanzo was half-asleep when he came, and drugged out too (for the pain), so it was all a bit hazy to him.  
  
and MWAH!!!!!!! thank you a thousand times for reading 'power'!!!!! i am soooooooooooo grateful!!! =) i just needed someone to check and tell me that it wasn't total trash. and for your reference, the canon pairing is akaiwa x kotori, but it's painfully obvious that his hot-tempered best friend chikage is in love with kotori as well. (poor chikage--he's also pissed because his younger bro has just fallen for his friend shinobu, a total loser!)  
  
sorry if the updates don't come too quickly =( i've got to get ready to go back to school... however *brightens* a show of interest always speeds them, yes indeed *totally shameless* ^_~ ta, then! 


	6. Ill Met by Moonlight

Note: I did the bad thing again. I tacked on another part to the previous chapter, having discovered that it fit better there. *hangs head* Please go back, take a quick look, and then hop to this one.  
  
I've also fixed a few tiny details, nothing significant unless you're amazingly attentive. And re-edited it a bit for flow =) I'll try not to be too hasty next time, Quantum ^_~  
  
..........................................  
  
Afterwards there were some those asked, If the gods were watching, why didn't they just make it easier? Why not just zap all four of them to Tenjiku? Why make the whole process so unsure, so inefficient?  
  
To which a goddess who seemed to disagree with the idea that clothing had anything to do with concealment replied, Because Fate is determined by Choice. Then, seeing their blank looks, further replied, Yes, you morons, Fate is still absolute. It is not simply a matter of statistics. Once a Choice has been made, Fate is what will happen.  
  
But, spluttered the questioners, what Choices are these?  
  
You'd be surprised, said the heavenly ruler. They can be quite minute.  
  
Wait, said one, If they are constantly making small choices which each affect Fate, wouldn't it be more accurate to say they choose their own fates? Meaning that there is no Fate at all?  
  
And the goddess put a finger coyly to her lips, and smiled.  
  
............................................  
  
The going was slower than he'd thought. He was hurting, and it was dark under the trees. The ground didn't seem to hold even for more than two steps at a time, and every time his foot was snagged by a root or sunk into a small pile of leaves he stumbled slightly. Normally it would have been nothing, but now it it jarred his wound and make his breath hitch with pain. He wasn't sure he was going in a straight line.  
  
It felt like he'd been making his way through the trees forever, but the moon that peeped through the branches was not yet high in the sky. He'd only been gone for a few hours, then. He wondered if the others were on his trail yet, and if they were close. Perhaps they hadn't come at all.  
  
The thought was an unexpected wrench, and distracted him enough so that he nearly tripped over a fallen limb. He still caught it with his toe, and the foot came down hard as he flailed. Pain shot through his guts again, and he gritted his teeth. An alien sense of self-pity stole over him. For a moment he thought about turning around and heading back.  
  
An owl hooted. The sound seemed close, though it was hard to name the direction. He wondered briefly if it was the same one he'd seen earlier. If he shut his eyes he could still see it, broad silent wings blotting out the moon. Something had dangled from its talons, something that was probably being devoured in a tree right about now.  
  
It was having better luck than him, then. It had gotten what it wanted AND it was eating. He scowled, and straightened, starting forward again. He refused to be outdone by some bird. He'd come hunting too, and he wasn't about to go back empty-handed.  
  
It was hard not to feel clumsy, though. He was making noise as he moved through the trees, and each snap and rustle made him jumpy. Keeping his eyes on the ground, he tried to walk more carefully. The trouble was focusing, since part of him kept wanting to crane his neck to look for enemies. Remembering what Hakkai had said, he compromised and let his ears stand guard. There weren't any songbirds at night, but if the crickets and frogs shut up all of a sudden, he wanted to know.  
  
Only ten minutes had passed when he caught the sound of rushing water. He followed it, treading cautiously until he could make out a place ahead where the trees grew thin. A dozen yards more and he was there, looking down at the swift-flowing creek.  
  
He'd crossed at a broad shallow point last time, but here it seemed to run narrower. He wondered if it got deep. He didn't know if he could swim. There were so many things he seemed to have forgotten about himself.  
  
The water bubbled by, carrying moonlight, and refused to tell him its depth. Probably full of fish, he thought wistfully. If only they weren't in such a hurry to get West, perhaps they could have stayed to find out. It felt like they'd been through hundreds of towns already. But they never stayed long enough to see much more than the inn. Inns, he found after a while, all started to look the same. And the food they served for the most part tasted the same; Houmei's cooking had been the one marvelous, memorable exception. Despite Gojyo's opinion, he could tell the difference between good and bad meatbuns. It was partly why he'd let the stableboy take one.  
  
The shock of cold water brought him back to the moment. The current was strong, and tugged at his legs as he waded out. He was in to his knees, and then his hips. For a moment he almost lost his footing, and then abruptly the water grew shallow again, and he was squelching onto the other side. He shivered, and decided that being wet at night, with no strong sun to dry him out, was less fun than it was in the day. The water had stopped just short of the hot ache of his wound, so it felt as if he were burning on top and freezing below.  
  
He followed the streambed, looking for a bigger clearing downstream. When he'd fretted over not knowing where their attackers had gone, Hakkai had told him that they were most likely camped somewhere downstream. You didn't make your camp too far away when you planned an ambush, he said, just in case you had to get there in a hurry. But you didn't make it too close, either, just in case things went awry.  
  
Why downstream, he'd asked. Why not just deeper in the forest? His older friend had begun to assume an instructive air. Most experienced travelers camped in a clearing, he explained, because it made it easier to see anyone coming, and kept you away from wild animals. And it was easier to make camp near fresh water, for drinking and cooking and washing and getting rid of waste.  
  
It was simple when Hakkai put it that way. Hakkai was smart, and best of all, he explained, unlike Sanzo. Sanzo just said things he couldn't understand and then hit him when he asked. Hakkai was a good teacher. He'd said as much, but the man had first looked startled, and then shook his head. Before he could ask about it the stupid kappa had barged into their conversation, saying that it was only because Goku was a dumb ape that everyone around him seemed smart. That had tipped off another battle until Hakkai reminded him gently that Sanzo was sleeping next door.  
  
A branch whipped him across the face, and he bit off a cry of annoyance. He should have watched where he was going, but it was hard to concentrate on _here_ when he really wanted to be _there_. He didn't have to be there, he told himself. He knew Sanzo was sleeping, he'd come in and looked at his sleeping face, which sometimes looked so different from his waking one.  
  
Not this time, though. Even asleep he looked like he was in pain. Sanzo was going to be fine, Hakkai had said so. Even Gojyo said that Sanzo was as lucky as a virgin gambler, and was far too mean to make anyone's life easier by dying. But every time something like this happened, and it happened far too often, his heart lurched in his chest. What if one day Sanzo never woke up?  
  
He didn't like to think about it, could never imagine it, really. It was like trying to hold on to a greased boulder. It always slipped out of his mind's grasp, pulled down by its own weight. He would never let anything happen, as long as he was there. And maybe, if he did this right, then Sanzo would stop being mad, would decide it was ok to keep him. He'd meant what he said. He just had to prove it.  
  
And all of a sudden, as if the gods had heard him, the camp was there, around a bend. It wasn't a large clearing, but it was a spot on the bank where the trees were pushed back several feet, didn't dip their gnarly roots right into the water. There had been a fire but it was long gone, and so there was no light or smoke. There was just suddenly body-shaped masses that were wrapped in blankets, and a second look revealed those bodies to have pointed ears. He'd nearly stepped on the closest one.  
  
He hesistated. It seemed stupid, after the attempt at stealth, to go and wake them up. Yet the idea of attacking them in their sleep was somehow revolting. He had just decided to hit one, but not too hard, when it occurred to him that there were only three of them. Far fewer than he'd expected.  
  
The owl hooted again and something crashed into his back, knocked him to the ground with an impact that left him stunned and breathless. He tasted blood and dirt in his mouth, and thrashed, trying to dislodge it, until he felt the cold prick of a dagger just under his ear, the tip digging into the skin.  
  
"Don't you people know anything?" the weight on his back asked. "We sleep in the trees."  
  
..............................................  
  
They'd left Jeep on the road and were trekking through the woods now.  
  
"This is my fault," Hakkai said. He's already said it about fifteen times, but he knew that Hakkai only did it beause each time he said it it felt truer than the last. Nevertheless, he rolled his eyes.  
  
"It is not your bloody damn fault and if you say that one more time I'll hit you."  
  
The other man shut up, and he regretted putting it that way because now Hakkai would just go on saying the words in his head. "Look, just because you told him where he MIGHT be able to find the camp, does not mean that you could figure out with your genius brain that he was going to do something this incredibly stupid and dangerous. I was there and I didn't even notice you telling him, ok?"  
  
"We've got to go faster," he got for his pains.  
  
He hoped on several levels that Goku really was all right, that he'd never find the camp, that he'd somehow manage not to get lost, that he'd kill them all singlehandedly and come back without a scratch. Because if the ape had really gone and gotten himself killed, there was going to be no living with the two of them. Maybe even with the three of them. Hells, he might as well just kill himself too and spare himself all the moping.  
  
Ok, that's enough of that, he thought, and pulled himself up sharply. Despite everything that had happened to him so far, at bottom he was an optimist, if only out of the quasi-belief that thinking bad things made them more likely to come true. Plus, it spoiled his mood.  
  
"I need a cigarette," he half-moaned, half-muttered. "Look, you're taking this way too seriously. This is Goku we're talking about, remember? He can kick Kougaiji's ass in combat, he's probably killed more youkai than you."  
  
"More than one thousand?"  
  
In the darkness, where he couldn't see the smile, the bitterness came through more clearly. His mouth twisted. "My point was, Goku can handle himself."  
  
"Normally," and even Hakkai was beginning to pant with the exertion of moving through the woods, half-blind. "But now he's wounded and anxious and probably tired--"  
  
"--you forgot hungry--"  
  
"--and hungry, and these youkai are apparently very good at moving quietly through trees. One was able to surprise Sanzo, even. And this is a forest."  
  
"I'd noticed." He had to admit, it was worrying. You had to get up pretty damn early to get a jump on the monk, he was paranoid that way. And the thing about his paranoia was, most of the time, it was right. The encounter with Kami-sama had royally fucked with all their heads, and even now they were jumping at shadows, worried that things would go wrong--not little things like getting clawed in an ambush, but really big things. Like the quest.  
  
He'd put it down to nerves, the way Sanzo had acted two mornings ago. But now it was having repercussions, repercussions that left him on a wild-ape chase through the woods, next to a bitter Hakkai. He sorted through his stock of insults, trying to figure out which ones to use on the ape when they finally caught up, and decided that the occasion merited an entirely new one, or three.  
  
Eventually they came to the stream. The cold moonlight made it look as if it were full of tiny silver fish. When they had crossed it he turned to ask, "Now what?"  
  
His friend was already walking. "Now we go downstream."  
  
"Down? Why not up?"  
  
"Up is closer to the road. They would have been trying to get away from us." Hakkai's voice was flat, dispassionate, like the moonlight.  
  
An owl hooted overhead. The sound was spooky and surprisingly loud. He felt like a chill go through him that had nothing to do with the water or the night breeze. He quickened his stride to catch up, and didn't complain at the pace. He also did his best to ignore the nagging sense that, for the third time in two days, he was going to be too late.  
  
..........................................  
  
He gritted his teeth, knowing that if he moved, the steel would go through his skin and right into his brain. The knowledge was as automatic as breathing. Stupid, he thought inside, stupid, stupid. Gojyo's right, you really are a dumb ape. Of course they had sentries posted.  
  
"Well, now, what shall we do with you, now that you're here?" There was something terribly off about the voice. It didn't just talk, it sing- songed. Other shapes were dropping out of the trees now, he could feel them at the very edge of his vision, which was currently stuck staring at the dirt under his nose.  
  
"Let me go and fight fair," he snarled, "Quit it with this stupid ambushing stuff!"  
  
The voice sounded amused. "Give up the only tactical advantage we have? I don't think so. We were hidden, and all focused on one target, and still he managed to wound three of us, and the rest of you killed one. You're bigger, and stronger, but we've still got the trees." The point pressed a little harder. He could feel it drawing blood and fought the urge to squirm. "That's why we were sent. Because this is our territory."  
  
His attacker rapped out something in a harsh chatter and the other shapes clustered near. He saw movement from those on the ground, and blurted, "How come those three weren't in the trees?"  
  
"Because your leader shot them, of course," and something hit him so hard he blacked out.  
  
.................................................  
  
tbc  
  
Does anyone think I'm writing Goku OOC? Too intelligent? Too talkative? Not hungry enough, what? Just let me know...I'll get better at this, I swear.  
  
Yes. Short chapter, but quick update, so don't hit me *cringe* I'm risking life and limb staying up this late, but I feel like the fic is on a roll and I'd like to get to the good part, so please, please, please be appreciative and review =)  
  
Ok. Slight warning. The monkey's gonna feel some pain in the next part. I have to pack, and I don't like that, and he's going to suffer my angst. That's also why the next update might take a few days. Hope that's ok with you all.  
  
Sorry, I'll thank Ch. 4 reviewers in my next part, ok? It's just too damn late tonight. ^^;;  
  
~Aki 


	7. Hanging On

y'know, one thing i have never been able to figure out is, what exactly are youkai? i mean, they seem like humans, except with pointy ears and maybe more muscles, for the most part. and yet there was that scary spider bitch back in book 1, and obviously there was some kind of freak called Hyakugan MaOu wandering around, and if that name is literal then he can't have looked ANYthing remotely human, regardless of whether he raped girls or not. so yes. i have gone and invented my very own kind of youkai. and in an odd, very twisted way, they sort of come from the original journey to the west, where Wu Kong (Gokuu) was the Monkey King...  
  
............................................  
  
Still a few steps away from awareness, he could feel his head throbbing with pain. It felt worse than the morning after the first time he'd been allowed to drink beer. He still thought it was cruel of Sanzo not to have warned him, but as Sanzo had reminded him, it had taught him never to drink so much so fast again. His arms hurt too, and he tried to pull them in, hoping that the movement and the pain would not be enough to shift him out of sleep altogether.  
  
And he couldn't move his arms, and he was cold.  
  
He opened his eyes. He couldn't move his arms because they were tied securely with rope that felt about as thick as his wrists to a branch above his head, and he was cold because they taken off his shirt and he was still half-wet. Awareness of his situation came speeding back and he kicked all of a sudden, began to struggle.  
  
He was hanging by his wrists from what looked like a sapling trunk. They had propped both ends of the limb in the crooks of two trees, and he dangled between them like some strange, enormous fruit, a good meter off the ground. He couldn't gain any purchase, wound up bouncing up and down in the air. The stress tore his wound a little wider open, and he winced.  
  
A figure stepped out in front of him, and he forced himself to stay still, though he was shaking with pain and rage. It was hard to see exactly what it looked like with its back to the moonlight, but he thought he make out a pinched little face that seemed to be smiling, surrounded by a beard of black and white hair. It walked a little stooped, so that the arms seemed to hang almost to the knees. In one hand was a long thin branch. When the figure came closer, though not close enough to kick, he saw that the eyes were round and very black, and the teeth were surprisingly sharp in their vicious grin.  
  
He worked his wrists frantically, trying to loosen the bonds, but he might have saved his breath for all the difference it made. The figure stopped, six feet away, and looked up at him. If it came just few feet closer, he thought, he'd be able to smash his feet right under the chin. But it moved around him in a circle just slightly too wide, speaking in a high-pitched mischievous tone. It seemed almost playful.  
  
"Hello, hello." He wished that they would just threaten him with death in the beginning. He was reminded, uncomfortably, of Kami-sama and his insane smile. He strained one wrist away from the other, pulling so hard against the rope that it felt like if he fell he'd surely leave his hands behind.  
  
"No," the youkai said, dodging behind him again, "I don't think you'll be able to wriggle yourself free. But just in case you think to try..." Goku struggled to turn his head to see what was happening, then felt the prod of something sharp and hard in his back. "We don't have any guns, oh no. But I think this would hurt too, don't you?" The figure tipped its head up at him and bared its teeth in a wide stretch.  
  
He did think it would hurt. Angry as he was, he didn't want another hole in him just yet. He settled for taunting them instead. "Good for you, you've caught me," he jeered. "Too cowardly to try and fight me, huh?"  
  
"Well," and the figure skipped to his right, "Nobody ever said that monkeys were brave." He jerked a little at the word "monkey" and felt the spear prod his backside. "And we are of the Monkey Tribe," the youkai continued. It spat at his feet, and said, "This whole land used to be ours, covered in trees, forest deep as the creek runs long." The playful tone was gone, replaced by a harsher angry chatter. "But humans--" he spat the word out like a lump of rancid meat, "cut down the trees, and push us back, every year."  
  
An angry chattering came from all around him. "We were just going to kill the monk, and take his sutras," and at this he started struggling and didn't stop until the spear had drawn blood. He could feel it dripping down his leg as he hung there, glaring helplessly. Hot tears were coming to his eyes. He was glad it was too dark for them to see.  
  
The monkey youkai grinned, and went on, slipping back into his sing-song, "And in return he said we'd get an army, to help us wipe out the humans for good."  
  
The words echoed excitedly between the trees. "An army, for good..."  
  
"But maybe we'll still get something if we give him you," and now, underneath the anger, the pain of the spear wound in his back and the ache of his arms and the burn in his gut, he felt the cold grip of fear. He wished, fleetingly, that his friends were nearby and could help, but just as quickly decided that he would rather get out of it on his own.  
  
The leader raised a long arm, and the chattering died down. "But you're like us," he said, less playfully, his voice almost a question. "We can smell it on you. You are no nasty parasite. You are a child of the earth."  
  
"I'm not a child," he snarled, although he felt like one just then, small and helpless and scared. The youkai seemed not to hear him.  
  
"We could teach you not to be so stupid. You could join us, you could," and the trees chorused, "You could, you could."  
  
"With you we would be stronger. We could attack the humans anyway. You would only have to kill one of them, to prove--"  
  
There was no thought involved. "NO!" he yelled, almost tearing his throat with the effort he put into it.  
  
There was a moment of silence and then the chattering came back, louder and angrier than before, and this time it came from all sides. "Kill it, kill it, kill it!"  
  
"You chose wrong," said the leader, and his voice was now higher-pitched, screeching, no longer very human at all. "So now you die." Faster than he would have believed, the long skinny arm whipped around and the branch hit his side, raked across his ribs and the bullet wound. It hurt so much that for a minute he could not breathe, even to scream. He struggled and twisted, no longer caring about the spear, hardly capable of feeling it. The branch came around again, and again, and on the last time he did scream. The sound was thin and pathetic in his ears and he knew he didn't want to hear it again.  
  
I'm not going to die here, he thought, although the pain nearly stopped him from thinking anything. If I die then who will protect Sanzo?  
  
"Too bad we don't have the gun," said the leader, and he tried to focus on the movements so he could try to twist away from the next blow. "We could have killed you with the same weapon that killed us. But maybe we'll use yours instead." He rapped out another command, and caught at something as it was thrown to him from the circle in the trees. As the youkai approached he could see that it was Nyoibu. A wild hope flashed into his mind, and he struggled again to concentrate, so he could pick out the moment, if it came.  
  
He wasn't going to die here. He hadn't survived Kami-sama and the desert and stupid Chin-Issou to get killed by stupid monkeys! His blood surged and his pulse pounded in his ears. He was NOT going to die here, Sanzo NEEDED him and now his eyes were wide open and glaring.  
  
The youkai was quick, slipping close to land a blow, and then dodging back out again. He screamed again as Nyoibu came whipping across his shins, feeling the bone crunch. Just one step closer, from the front, he thought, and did his best to rock away as the staff thrust into his side, then cracked across his back. Dimly he registered that the others were throwing things at him, sticks and rocks. Something cut him over one eye and he blinked desperately, trying to clear away the blood. The pain was starting to blend together, crawling all over his body. In a few more blows he would not even feel them separately.  
  
He choked back the screams as he could and watched until the leader came in once more, finally from the front, pointing Nyoibu at him. He waited for one more step. It came, and jerking his body forward with every ounce of strength he could summon, he stretched out one foot and caught his attacker in the throat with one toe. At the same time he yelled, "NYOIBU!" and willed the staff to become long.  
  
It shot out at both ends, one of whom caught the youkai holding it squarely in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The other sailed towards him, and he just managed to kick it high enough so that it flew over his head. The expanding staff caught the branch holding him with a crack, and suddenly one end of the limb was swinging down. He twisted to his side as he fell, caught the spear-wielder across the side of the face with one knee. The forest was full of outraged surprised and he knew he only had seconds before the rest closed in.  
  
He was tugging at his bonds even before his feet touched the ground. He nearly collapsed when they did; one leg did not want to support him. But he put one foot against the branch and pulled. The rope slipped off and suddenly he was free, hands still bound, but free. He felt the spear stab him in the shoulder, stumbled, scrabbled for Nyoibu with his bound hands, willing it to shrink. His fingers scrabbled across leaf and loam and then closed around the smooth weapon. He spun around, clenching it in his awkward grip, and began to fight for his life.  
  
.................................................  
  
They had started running when they first heard the chattering, and had gotten close enough to hear the last of the screams. They slipped and sprinted along the bank, and his boots had never seemed so heavy and slow.  
  
As they drew nearer there was no more screaming, only chattering and shrieks and the sounds of chaos. He had the impression that there were shadows bursting past them in the trees, fleeing away from the conflict, when suddenly it grew quiet again. He put his head down and ran harder. They came into the clearing almost together, and his glance flew over the bodies sprawled haphazardly on the ground to the half-naked, blood-covered, and above all, familiar figure leaning on its staff. Even as Hakkai called out his name, Goku was pitching forward.  
  
In that moment fear rose up and swallowed him, and he could hardly move his feet until Hakkai was kneeling by the boy, his hands already beginning to glow.  
  
"Goku," he was murmuring, turning the boy gently over, "Goku, we're here."  
  
His stomach was a raw mess where the youkai had ripped the bandages away. Blood covered so much of his torso that it was hard to see what wounds were there. It spilled over one side of the face, dark and sticky. He saw with a start that the hands were tied at the wrist. Fury built in him as he reached down to slice the ropes away, but he dared not interfere with the healing. Nobody died of bound hands, he knew, at least not directly, but his own hands trembled a litte. He looked around the clearing, silently wished for something to kill.  
  
"Hakkai," and the voice was so soft, Goku was never that quiet, it scared the shit out of him, "Hakkai, I'm sorry."  
  
"Shh, there's nothing to be sorry for, just lie still and relax." Beads of sweat were beginning to form on the healer's forehead and his forehead was wrinkled with fierce concentration.  
  
"Tell Sanzo--" he gasped as Hakkai placed one hand under him, "--tell Sanzo not to be mad--" With his other hand Hakkai gripped and pulled a short crossbow bolt out of the boy's shoulder. He saw Goku seize up, then slump back as his body took the age-old escape route from pain. Hakkai didn't even bat an eye, only went on pouring energy into the silent form. Already his hands were gory as he reconnected the major arteries, tying off leaking ki, trying to collect the energy that was now scattered and wasted and organize it back into the matrix of life.  
  
Ten minutes of silence went by, ten long minutes where he had ample time to reflect upon the complexities of the human body, and how easy it was to make any of them go wrong. How he'd seen men die from a punch in the nose, the kidneys, lose legs to a blow that didn't heal well. And all the while the energies ran out of Hakkai's hands and danced over the bloody body, and slowly they seemed to settle into little networks and began to flow, except over the stomach where one wound refused to close. The light faded, and a faint mist arose from the skin, like breath on a cold day.  
  
Hakkai dropped his arms, swayed. In the moonlight he couldn't tell, but he knew by experience that Hakkai's face was as white as kaolin clay. He hurried to put his shoulder behind the man, steadied him with one arm before he could fall. "Idiot. What's the point of trading lives? You always over do it."  
  
"I promised," said Hakkai as he let himself sag and gasped for air, as if he had only just realized the inadequacy of his own resources. His eyes stared past the river, through the woods, into a room where someone pretended to sleep as he waited.  
  
"He's not--is he--" It was hard not to beg for guarantees, even though he knew the man could not afford to give them.  
  
"No," Hakkai said, his voice exhausted but sharp with relief. He laid Goku down carefully, and slowly got to his feet. "But help me make a stretcher. We have to get him back to Jeep and the inn as quickly as possible, he's going to slip into shock."  
  
They formed a rude frame to carry him, with branches and clothing torn from fallen enemies and their own bodies. Lifting him onto the strips of cloth and covering him with their shirts, they set off as quickly as they could, him leading, Hakkai staggering silently in the back.  
  
........................................  
  
The monk was waiting for them when they got back, standing in a corner of the deserted yard. He didn't say a word, hardly looked at them as they climbed out wearily. He didn't even offer to help carry Goku, only turned around and went back inside. In their room there was a kettle of water boiling over the fire, another kettle that had cooled, and clean cloth laid out, cut into strips.  
  
Sanzo went into his room and shut the door.  
  
"Well how do you like that," he gasped, "We go and bust our butts trying to save his ape and he doesn't even say so much as a thank-you."  
  
"Gojyo, please, I need your help over here." Goku's skin felt like a frog's, cold and clammy, and his lips were blue at the edges. He was breathing shallowly, too shallowly for sleep. Soaking a cloth in the boiling water, then dipping it into the cool and wringing it out, they wiped him down gently and dried him off. The heat from the cloth seemed to steam a little more color into his face.  
  
Without the streaks of blood and in stronger light, he could take better stock of the injuries: bruises and cuts and an ugly spear wound through the back, a badly fractured lower leg, the place where the bolt had punched through his shoulder, which seemed to be still bleeding under the skin. Hakkai meticulously stitched and dabbed and bandaged, while he avoided looking at the wrists, which had been chafed raw and bled stickily where the ropes had been.  
  
They covered him in two layers of blankets and lay him close to the fire, sitting down against the bed to keep unspoken vigil. "Heh, the one night he's not likely to kick and we can't put him in bed," he said roughly. It didn't feel the same, when there was no one to take the bait. "He's been through worse," he said aloud, then turned to Hakkai for confirmation. "Hasn't he?"  
  
Hakkai had his eyes half-closed, and his head had fallen back against the foot of the bed.  
  
"Aw, hell," and he sprang to his feet, "Why didn't ya say something?" He didn't wait for a response, dashing down to the kitchen to grab a bowl of whatever it was that stood in the simmering cauldron, waiting for late night guests. He returned and shoved it into Hakkai's limp fingers. The man took it gratefully, with that measure of perpetual humility that made him want to scream.  
  
"He should be alright," Hakkai said between slow spoonfuls of the rice porridge. "But it's hard to say. He was badly hurt to start with, and to be injured again, so quickly..." He sounded frustrated. "I can hold things together, but I can't make them work. He needs rest so his system can restore things on its own."  
  
"Well, at least we won't have him running around going nuts over the monk." He felt the warmth of the fire beginning to sink into his bones as the adrenaline slowly unwound, leaving him drained and drowsy.  
  
"That's a knife that cuts both ways," his companion said, with a hint of his usual smile. Then he stared into the flames with worried eyes. "Sanzo...I wonder how he will handle this..."  
  
"What, Bouzu? He's probably sleeping like a baby, saving energy so he can whack the monkey when he wakes." He yawned as he said the words, knowing that they were only half the truth, but not particularly caring.  
  
"To tell you the truth, I don't really understand him."  
  
"Who does?" He snorted. "Not his ser-vants," he drawled out the word, "We just follow orders."  
  
"A holy man who doesn't believe in the gods," his friend mused.  
  
"Yeah, makes for a lousy monk, doesn't he?" he agreed. "Though it's hard not to believe in the gods when they show up on your doorstep." He thought back to that moment in the rain, with Rikudou slapping them off and Sanzo lying there bleeding while Goku...Goku became the other thing that he was, when he wasn't Goku. "They don't do her tits justice, yanno, in the statues and all."  
  
"I suppose it's because he walks too close to them, that he does not believe in such things," said Hakkai.  
  
"Come again?" His brain was too tired for philosophy. He turned and rummaged through his pack, digging out a cigarette.  
  
Hakkai had begun to repeat automatically, "You've already had your ten--"  
  
"Heh, heh, but it's tomorrow already, right?" He lit up, and the smoke filled his lungs, the way a lover filled his arms, as he listened.  
  
"When you see the gods for what they are, they cease to be gods," Hakkai went on. His eyes were closed now. "Gods are something you turn to in prayer."  
  
A wisp of memory swirled through his ears. You could always pray for our safety, he'd said. He wondered if Sanzo had, and then wondered if maybe that was Hakkai's point.  
  
"You don't sound like you're too keen on them yourself," he observed. Hakkai opened his eyes, and stared at him, and for a moment the gaze reminded him of someone he'd known, but that was ridiculous, because who could it remind him of but Hakkai? He didn't go around paying attention to everyone's eyes. Then the familiar smile wiped that faint trace of recognition away, and Hakkai was saying, "Haha, how arrogant of me. You must know something well, before you can despise it."  
  
"Who knows," he said sleepily, "Maybe you know them better than you think." He felt Hakkai reach over and take the cigarette from his lips. He wanted to protest, but fell into sleep.  
  
....................................................  
  
tbc  
  
OK, this isn't where I wanted to stop it--but this chapter's long already, so I suppose it'll have to do. ^^;; Yes, I know I assumed that Goku can control Nyoibu even when not directly touching it... *eheh* You know, those magic weapons, very special lah... Sorry if I'm beating you over the head with the GojyoxHakkai...I'm such a stubborn moron when it comes to pairings, I will cheer 3x9 and 5x8 (my, aren't we fans creative--I thought GWing was cutting edge when it came to numbers) on until the END OF TIME!!!!  
  
Now comes a very important question (thanks, btw, for giving me your opinions on the Goku-OOC business, guys. =) It really helped, all of it.)  
  
Do you want this fic to be short, or long?  
  
Short, and it winds up in maybe a chapter or two. The ending won't be really conclusive, but everything that should be there will be implied.  
  
Long, and you're in for a whole 'nuther chunk o' Plot and Bad Action Scenes by yours truly. On the other hand it will be mushier and a lot more WAFF will appear at the end.  
  
I am a democratic person and will go by vote =) It's just that I sense a potential wrap-up point, and if you don't feel the need to make this fic any longer, then I won't. Further than this and I'll be venturing into somewhat unknown waters.  
  
And finally, the thanks =)  
  
K. Firefly, I am looking forward to reading "A Thousand Deaths" ^^ AU is not normally my thing, but I'll read anything interesting, and your writing is certainly very readable. I'm glad you like Goku and I'm sorry for beating "the foodles" out of him XD  
  
Merci to incandescens for reviewing both chapters, and also being a proud member of the "Goku is Not an Idiot Club" *grin* I mean, after what he does in book 9 of the manga, I just can't ever look at him as a total numbskull ever again. a part-time numbskull, that's what he is.  
  
Quantum, as usual, thanks for the detailed feedback =) You always leave your opinion, and like Hakkai, explain it ^^ so helpful!  
  
Same goes to Krimson (don't stay too late after work! go home and get rest!)  
  
And Ultra =) congrats on finishing "A Time for Us," btw. I am now fascinated by the idea of long-fingered Gojyo playing the piano, a secret sensualist...  
  
gallatica, hope you're finding it easier to keep track of what's going on. i didn't descibe much Sanzo in this chapter, but more will be forthcoming. you can imagine it for yourself...a dark room...dark thoughts...no beer and no gun but lots of ghosts for company...heh =)  
  
yoong and Metallic-Monkey, thanks for your interest too! ^^ Sorry if Goku seemed a little weak, but he beat them all up in the end anyhow, WAHAHAHA!!  
  
and X-parrot, KYAA!!!! fix your comp and update!!!! get those poor boys in out of the cold! and don't forget to tell us when you do! =) until then, thanks so much for the endorsement. it means a lot when writers you admire approve of your work. 


	8. Bitter Herbs

and this new chapter emerges from a keyboard precariously balanced on my knees. my comp is temporarily set up at my bro's place...but i was undergoing saiyuki withdrawal. you know how it is...leave a fic too long and the urge to write for it sorta...atrophies.  
  
PS: sorry if you guys are having trouble distinguishing the POV--i don't know how to describe it, but except for the first chapters where i didn't know what i was doing, it seems to mostly be third person. i figured since there's only four guys and not all of them are present, it shouldn't be too hard to use process of elimination? ^^;; i could be wrong... holla if it's bothering you...  
  
------------------------  
  
and though our hearts may bleed, my lad  
  
to break the loving ties that bind  
  
i cut them knowing you will learn  
  
to love the freedom you will find  
  
------------------------  
  
He was caught in a current that flowed, sometimes hot, sometimes cold. When it tugged him under he tumbled, submersed in a stream of images and fear. Sometimes he bobbed up towards the world of light and voices. He could hear them, somewhere overhead, but they came from behind a thick curtain and he was too weak to reach up and pull it aside. He sank each time he rose as if his limbs had turned soft and heavy as gold. For a borderless span he went on drifting in the dark, and did not know that he moaned.  
  
Sometimes a wash of cooling, soothing light would spread through the darkness and at those times the voices would sound nearer than ever, the thick curtain becoming a thin veil. Each time he was sure that on the next time, the next try, he would break through, be able to brush it away. But always the light would fade and he would sink back, exhausted. At one point he thought he could feel the brush of a hand over his face, simple and warm. It slipped away, and with a pang of loss he slid back into a darkness thicker than water.  
  
---------------------------  
  
It was hot.  
  
He woke slowly, with the uneasy conviction that he had overslept. He, who had so long and so firmly believed that mornings were some sort of illusion, was now conditioned by Hakkai's rice porridge and Sanzo's gun to rise shortly after dawn. Now the full light of a day that had well and truly broken tilted into his eyes through the open shutters, and the yard below was filling with the sounds of routine: an axe falling, the perennial mindless excitement of chickens. There was a strange smell in the air, bitter and tarry.  
  
His neck felt stiff, and his back tingling numb. Shaking himself into a state of awareness, he realized that he was still sitting against the foot of the bed. At some point, it seemed, the bed had chosen to crawl down around his shoulders and cocoon him in coarse layers of homespun cloth and wool. He twisted for a moment and tried to count to see if the man had left any for himself, then wondered why he bothered. It wasn't his business to interfere with martyrs. He'd had his fill of them.  
  
He kicked himself free and listened for the others, another new-old habit. Gunshots, he'd learned, meant being more circumspect than usual. But today there was no whining, no cracking shouts or shots. Instead, voices riding low with anxiety were coming from next door. Noticing that the monkey was no longer lying in front of the fire, he felt a surge of concern that carried him into the hall. He leaned by the door, irresolute. Eavesdropping was an old-old habit, and a handy one.  
  
The words swallow-dipped in and out of his hearing and he caught a few fragments, ". not sure why it's this high . " ". torn the inner lining ." ". must NOT move him ." It was Hakkai's voice, low and steady but with a push behind it of urgency. He was talking to Sanzo, likely, who was either saying nothing or saying it in a voice too low to be heard.  
  
So. The kid was still sick, then. Somehow he'd expected that it would be all right today. It was rare for them to see the same walls for three days or more and he'd thought they'd be hustled into Jeep at sunup by a surly Sanzo, eager to make up for lost time. Goku would be pushing his invalid status to claim a bigger share of the backseat and Hakkai would be driving and stoically concealing his yawns.  
  
The door jerked open, swinging through his comfortable scenario. Out stalked what he judged to be a highly pissed-off monk. He passed by without even a glance, sandals thudding against wood floor, a dull staccato of rage. He hadn't even thought of a flip remark and the man had already reached the end of the narrow hallway, was starting down the stairs.  
  
"Where's he off to, in such a hurry?" he scoffed, angry with himself for feeling still so thick and slow with sleep.  
  
"Probably to buy cigarettes," Hakkai said, emerging from the room where they'd quartered Sanzo the night before. (Had it been only the night before? It seemed at least a week ago.) It was a narrow, rectangular space that held only one low bed, and was probably the bedroom of one of the resident servants, who was doubtless now sleeping in the straw or on a corner of the floor somewhere. "He's been smoking like a volcano all morning. He must be nearly out by now."  
  
"Making up for time lost yesterday," he found himself saying, although what was on his mind was a combination of blankets and breakfast and the empty place before the fire. Why did you let me sleep so late, he'd wanted to ask, but some habits were too strong to break. He thought, between the four of them, they made a pretty good case for the saying that only children and fools tell the truth. The ape was somewhere in between the two, no doubt. "What's he so mad about?"  
  
Hakkai's face was grave. As ever this frightened him because what he was used to and could deal with was screaming hysteria and by now, gunshots. "C'mon, doc, how's the patient? Is he ready for his bananas yet?"  
  
"I'm afraid he won't be eating any bananas for a while," Hakkai replied, but the joke fell flat without his usual stiff cheer. For a moment he felt ashamed of having said it, Bananas, really, at a time like this. Then he got a grip and waited for Hakkai to tell him what was wrong.  
  
"Peritonitis." The name fell hard and heavy. Something really bad, then. "What mercenaries call gutrot."  
  
And that was bad, could kill a man in fevers while he couldn't eat and couldn't drink and dried up until he died. Which was sometimes quite soon. "Can you fix it?"  
  
"I don't know." Hakkai sounded pained. "I should have done more work before I sewed up the wound. It must have torn open on the inside and gotten infected."  
  
"So what's going on in there, then?"  
  
"High fever. His breathing is still shallow and his pulse is weak. It seems to have set in sometime in the night, and has been growing worse." The calm diagnosis faltered "Perhaps you should go see for yourself." He pushed open the door and went in. Goku lay on his back under the sheets. The position looked unnatural. He was used to sleeping next to the monkey and not once had he ever found him looking so rigid. Stiff as a corpse, but no corpse ever breathed rapid and shallow like that, or had skin that was splotchy and fever-hot.  
  
He wondered what happened inside when you had gutrot. It didn't take too much imagination, with a name like that. Hakkai moved to his side silently, as though he were fearful of disturbing the boy. He wished it were that simple, that he could simply cup his hands and holler into that shock of brown hair and watch those screwed up lids flutter open the way they did most mornings. He had a hunch it wouldn't work so well now.  
  
"What can we do?" His own voice startled him, harsh and raw with waking. He cleared it and tried to swallow past his dry thick tongue.  
  
"I've already compounded a brew of fever-reducing herbs," said Hakkai, "It's been stewing since midmorning."  
  
"Ah, so that's what it was. It smelled horrible."  
  
"The bitterest medicine is the best," quoted Hakkai absently, "But I'm not sure that he'll be able to keep it down. He's been retching at everything we've tried to give him." Retching, from someone who would eat dirt if he were hungry enough. "What about ki healing?"  
  
"I've tried that too. Look," and the sheets were peeled back over the flat naked torso. He recoiled at the look of the angry flesh, the gash whose edges were now crusted and smelled of pus. "I'm afraid to close it, even if I could. The infection would only be trapped in."  
  
He felt a kind of shock. Of the four of them, Goku had never seemed to be in mortal danger. The kid had always bounced back from harm quickly enough and his appetite had never been impaired; it was almost as if every scrap of food went straight into regenerating his lanky frame. Meatbun to muscle. He'd almost grown to think that it was a state of more than mortality. What could hurt a youkai over five hundred years old?  
  
Infection and bullets, apparently. He found his voice again. "Will he be okay?"  
  
"I don't know." The statement was flat. "I'm not a proper healer, I'm only just learning the rudiments of ki.I could do nothing when Sanzo was poisoned, and I can do precious little now." If the bitterest medicines were the best, then smearing a few of Hakkai's words across that ugly wound should have closed it right quick. "If I'd known I would deal in so much death I would have trained to be a doctor, not a scholar."  
  
He reached out and shoved the back of the other man's head. "Oi. Give it a rest, will ya? I'll keep the monkey company."  
  
Hakkai started at the rough contact, knocked away from his inner turmoil. "Huh?"  
  
"Well, it's not like he's going to get any better by you starin' at him, right?"  
  
The man hesitated. "But his wound's got to be washed with salt water.and drained.the medicine--"  
  
"But not every five minutes, right? Go, shoo, make like a normal human being and sleep or something." Hakkai left reluctantly, saying that he'd be back within the hour to administer another round of herbs, and instructing him to try and get the boy to drink.  
  
When he had gone Gojyo pulled up a dusty crate from the corner over to the bed, and sat down on it. Placing his hands on his knees, he looked Goku, who didn't toss and turn as he normally did. Some nights he managed to turn himself around completely. It wasn't a pleasant sight, waking to a pair of monkey feet that probably hadn't been properly washed and gods only knew where they'd been. At the moment he was still, apart from the small rapid rise of his chest, and the occasional twitching groan. He wondered what was running through that careless head, to be giving him such painful dreams. Or maybe it was merely the fever running through his blood, and his head was as empty as always.  
  
"Hey, monkey-boy," he said aloud, and waited for a response. None came, so he went on. "You'd better get well soon. Sanzo's going to be plenty pissed if we don't get on the road."  
  
This didn't seem to be a grave enough threat. Sanzo was always pissed; they were more or less immune to his wrath by now. Even the dumb ape had caught on that for a man who could kill at fifty paces with his eyes closed, he was remarkably unsteady in his aim. He tried again.  
  
"If you don't get well soon, that glutton for punishment is just gonna keep bashing himself over the head. You don't really want him to overdose on guilt, do you? He's only got one good eye left now."  
  
Still nothing. "Aw hell. If you don't get up soon, I might even start to get a little worried."  
  
He gave up on speech and dribbled water through the parted lips. Hakkai was right, Goku had a tendency to retch and splutter if you poured too fast. He slowed it to a trickle. Twice before the sun set Hakkai came back in to gently lave the edges of the wound, and once he pierced it with a long thin needle, eyes narrow with concentration as the pus flowed out. The herbs weren't bringing down the fever but they fed it to him anyway, a stewed concoction the color of used tea leaves.  
  
Sunset found him still in the room, eating his dinner with the occasional one-sided gibe. He eyed the boy as if he half-expected him to rise up and snatch the food away, half-gnawed. He was almost disappointed when it didn't happen. Hakkai had asked just before if he wanted to be relieved of his shift and he'd waved his friend away, saying that it kept him out of the bad-tempered Buddhist's way. Hakkai had argued, but in the end, exhausted by another round of attempted healing, had gone back downstairs to eat.  
  
He watched the flushed face. It was dry of sweat; the fever was burning him from the inside out. His mind wandered and he pictured the monkey drying up, shrinking into the hard black object he'd seen years ago in some herb-witch's yard, a little wrinkled thing she'd said was a dried monkey head. In his vision the little black thing wore a golden limiter the size of a thumb ring. He went on watching as the light coming in through the window turned blood red, then faded.  
  
.........  
  
Two more days the fever had lasted. Sometime on the second day Goku had curled into a tight ball on his side, and they had had to pull hard to uncurl him. Gojyo had been persuaded to leave when he'd run out of cigarettes. Sanzo had not come into the room since the first day, did not so much as direct an inquiry or even respond when he gave the few details that could be given anyway. It made him almost glad that the man mostly chose to stay away from the inn altogether. At times he felt his temper fraying painfully.  
  
Finally, the fever had broken and Goku was breathing deeper, easier, the painful set of his face relaxed into something more natural. It seemed safe to leave him, now, and he slipped downstairs. He was sipping scalding tea, relaxing for the first time in days, when he looked up to find Sanzo's inscrutable gaze. "Yes?" he asked, because reflex was as close as you could come to safe with Sanzo.  
  
For a moment the monk seemed almost disinclined to respond. Then abruptly, he asked, "Is he out of danger?"  
  
He sipped at the tea, wincing as it burned the tip of his tongue. "I think so, yes. As long as further abscesses do not appear."  
  
"Then we start tomorrow."  
  
At this he looked up, and did not smile. "I don't think that's advisable. Surely you can spare one more day for him to heal?"  
  
"He can heal all he likes," Sanzo said as he turned away. "He's not coming."  
  
Hot tea sloshed over his hand, but he barely noticed the sensation. "Sanzo, you're not serious."  
  
"We've already wasted more than enough time," the man said curtly, stopping but not turning around. "I can hardly trust him to behave himself after a stupid prank like this. I refuse to let this sort of thing drag us down."  
  
"This sort of thing?" Some part of him was amazed that he could still produce rage, in his weary state. "I agree Goku was a bit impetuous but surely he's allowed one mistake? Especially since he only did it because-- "  
  
"One mistake?" Sanzo filled his words with scorn. "This isn't a game where you get three tries at everything. His mistakes will cost us lives."  
  
"Sanzo, he's only a boy!" He was well and truly angry. He didn't see why it was necessary to go through this elaborate charade each time, when the monk was fooling no one, not even himself.  
  
"Exactly. And boys don't belong on dangerous journeys. I don't know why I brought him along in the first place." He said the words with a weary disgust that made Hakkai wonder for a split second if he really knew the man as well as he thought he did, which was not very well at all. Stymied, he spoke without calculation.  
  
"And the last thing he asked us was to tell you not to be angry!"  
  
Sanzo whirled around at that, his face dark with anger. "What good is it if he doesn't make his apologies in person?"  
  
He went on, relieved to have struck a chord. "It'll kill him if you leave him behind."  
  
"It might kill him if I bring him along, too, did you think of that?"  
  
The response caught him by surprise and he was silent just long enough for Sanzo to escape up the stairs. He wasn't going to let the matter rest, however, and had his argument ready by dinner. Gojyo had wandered out, claiming that he needed to look at pretty faces after staring at the monkey's. He wondered how the redhead would react to Sanzo's suggestion.  
  
Setting another kettle of boiled water to cool, he thought he heard a noise from the adjoining room. Could Goku be waking, he wondered, and moved quietly to check. It would be a good opportunity to get some simple food into his body if he were, although he was loath to wake the boy from his first true sleep.  
  
The door stood a crack open, and he saw that someone was already in the room. Sanzo was finally breaking the silent vow he seemed to have made on the first day. Even as he wondered whether to speak he saw one hand reach out, hesitate, then lay itself on the boy's head, smoothing back the tousled hair. It was not a graceful gesture; the arm moved as if it were wooden. It lay there for a moment. He backed away, feeling relieved that Sanzo's back was to him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see the man's eyes, but knew that he would never be forgiven if they had seen him. He wondered why it was so hard to do this when the boy was awake. When it might make a difference.  
  
That night, he took Gojyo away from the inn and into a suitably distant location where he proceeded to explain. Listened as Gojyo scoffed, then shouted, and explained again. There was more shouting as the meaning of his words sunk in, but less of it was directed at him, and more of it at Sanzo. Then Gojyo stopped even shouting about Sanzo and just started swearing, he could only assume at the situation in general. And how Goku would feel ("He ain't gonna like this one bit, yanno.") Somehow the hand in the hair played a part in the explanation, and so did that moment in the desert when the two of them had collapsed back into the sand together. But in the end he felt that Gojyo had finally yielded more out of a gratifying faith in him.  
  
Whatever the reason, after strict instructions to the innkeeper, the following morning they packed their things quietly and left. And if Sanzo wondered at the lack of surprise on the half-breed's part, he said nothing, nor did he acknowledge the muttered asides about cruelty to dumb animals.  
  
It took a while to convince Jeep to start with only three of them there. The little dragon had been wary since the last wild ride and kept stalling.  
  
.........  
  
Good? Bad? Or just plain Ugly?  
  
You guys have voted mostly for long, and I guess I'll go with that. But do let me know if it starts to drag, ok? *mwah* I love you all, my darling reviewers, and will thank you properly in the next chappie. For now, post, and then off to bed. Sorry if this one came out a little rough-it was written under disjointed conditions ^^;; 


	9. Two Lines

wow. looking back on some of the previous chapters i'm like, damn. i sure can't write.   
  
on the other hand, if i can improve even within the bounds of one story, my learning curve can't have flattened out yet. so yes. silver lining. i guess the problem is i just don't know wtf i'm talking about half the time. and i don't have enough imagination to supply the lack. so, like, i have no idea what it feels like to be running through the trees with half a dozen killer youkai after me. or much anything about woods at all, or even riding horses, or to have a near-fatal gut wound. then again, gods know there's nothing about suburbs or college or eating disorders or being female in saiyuki, so that means i'm going to be pretty much out of my depth for this whole story *grin*   
  
so thanks for putting up with my inadequacies ^_~ with enough practice, i might actually get good at this someday, ne?  
  
enuff talk. chapter awaits. (anyone find these little random narrative blurbs odd?)  
  
....................................  
  
Immortals have a strange attitude towards reincarnation. As a part of the Cycle, they are intimiately familiar with its mechanics and its purpose. After all, they spent quite a bit of time engineering it. Practically speaking, however, most of them have about as much understanding of it as a fish has of a sand dune.  
  
Born again, born different, and most importantly, i/ born not knowing who you are/i.  
  
Aren't they frightened? Completely at a loss? they asked the Ruler of the Western Skies.  
  
They get over it, She replied. And they manage to figure out quite a bit about themselves along the way. It's amazing what stays constant, even when the bodies get switched around. For example, She added with a sly smile, that nephew of mine has been reincarnated no less than nine times since going Below.  
  
They waited patiently for Her to reveal how this was relevant.  
  
She leaned forward conspiratorally. And twice he was a woman! she added, and laughed so hard that Her breasts jiggled in their transparent confinement.   
  
What about Son Goku? the discomfited celestials asked, in the attempt to distract Her and stop the jiggling. Has he not been trapped in the same form for centuries, denied the possibility of rebirth and atonement?  
  
Oh, yes. That one.   
  
She paused. For effect or for thought, it was impossible to know, although those who knew her were aware that she went out of her way for the first but rarely bothered with the second.   
  
Yes, Goku has never reincarnated. And yet--one long, sharp nail tap-tapped against the lacquered arm of the chair--he is not the child he was when Above, either, for to live Below is to change, and he has no memory of who he was. The same finger wound around the luxurious tumbling tresses as she said, But technically speaking, he has been Son Goku for all five hundred years.  
  
Perhaps that's why he's so good at it, she added with a wink that sent the audience fleeing back to their pavilions.  
  
....................................  
  
He woke slowly. From where he was coming, consciousness was a long way off. And it came with a host of sensations that took him some time to sort out. A groggy head, a stiff neck, a soreness in his stomach, a dry mouth. Hunger, ripping at his insides. And underlying it all, a sense of unease.   
  
It was too quiet. Grimacing, he swung his legs over the edge and stood up. Promptly sat down again, as blackness swamped his vision and his head throbbed. Took a few more breaths and tried again. This time his legs agreed to carry him and he wobbled his way to the door. The pitcher was still on the stand and he swallowed greedily, although his shrunken stomach warned him not to down the whole vessel in one go.   
  
He felt a little disappointed. Somehow he'd expected Hakkai to be by his side when he woke up, or even the kappa. Sanzo was too much to hope for, but where were they, if not here? He tried the door to their common room, and found it locked. He pounded. "Oi! Gojyo! Hakkai!!" It was already noon, could they still be sleeping? Sanzo wouldn't stand for that. He banged again and was about to holler when the door swung open under his fist. A short, fat man whose neck bulged under his chin glared at him.  
  
"Quit yer racket, there's folks a-tryin' to sleep in here!" The man's breath smelled bad and he stepped back involuntarily as the door swung shut. He'd seen a woman in the bed where Hakkai had been sleeping the night before--no, not the night before, the night before he'd been in the woods, only Hakkai and Gojyo had found him and brought him back here--his head spun.  
  
How long had he been asleep? Where had the others gone? What were these people doing in their room? He struggled not to panic, reminding himself that he was NOT a stupid ape, and went downstairs. This village was small, the general store didn't even carry Sanzo's favorite cigarettes. They couldn't be hard to find. The innkeeper wasn't in sight, but his wife, a thin dark woman with wispy hair and a surprisingly loud voice, was wiping down the tables that wobbled in the corners of the room. He hesitated, unsure where to start. She looked up.  
  
"Oh, awake, are you?" She dabbed at the wisp that dangled perpetually before her eyes. "That nice friend of yours told me to look after you when you came around." Nice friend was surely Hakkai. Sanzo didn't come across to many people as nice, and although women sometimes found Gojyo nice (for reasons he couldn't fathom, probably the stupid kappa was only polite to females), he somehow doubted the halfbreed had been flirting with this one. The town wasn't THAT small.  
  
"Where did he go, do you know?" He tried to keep the worry from his voice. Surely they hadn't gone far. They would be back within the day, and Hakkai would apologize for having been absent.   
  
"They paid their bill and some extra for you this morning. Don't know where they were headed."  
  
Paid their bill. The words struck him like stones. He dashed into the yard. Jeep was gone, a few scraggly chickens pecking at the ground where its wheels had been.   
  
"You!" He jumped. Laifu, the stableboy, was stomping towards him with a now-you'll-get-what's-coming-to-you look on his round, normally open face. He attempted a smile, but between his anxiety and a small nudge of guilt he could feel that it hadn't gone right. "You got me trouble with Uncle Shao!"  
  
"Did he beat you?" he asked, momentarily distracted.  
  
"'course he did! Knocked me down right hard and asked me what I was doin' sleepin' in the stables like a horse!"   
  
"Ah--" he was stricken with guilt. "But it wasn't your fault! Do you want me to go beat him up for you?"  
  
The boy gave him a look of disgust. "What, an' get in trouble fer that too?"  
  
Laifu was right, he never thought things through, it was always getting him into trouble, that was probably why Sanzo had gotten tired of him--  
  
"Oi, oi. You don't have to look so glum. S'ok, really, I get knocked down all the time, Uncle's got a pig's temper--"  
  
"Laifu," he cut the boy short desperately, "Did you talk to my friends today?"  
  
Laifu's brow wrinkled in thought. "What, them that came in with you? Nah, just once to tell 'em to get their--their--"  
  
"Jeep," he supplied, his hopes rising.  
  
"Right, outta the way, and they said they were just about to leave anyway. Say, where were they off to, an' so early too?"  
  
"I... don't know."   
  
The boy surveyed him in frank surprise. "What, they didn't say?"  
  
"I was asleep," he said miserably.   
  
Laifu seemed to soften at the sight of his woe. "Well, they did say you had a rough time of it, coming back all hurt like that. Come to think of it, one of 'em did give me something to give to you the day before. I meant to give it to you straight off, but I got so mad I clean forgot." He pulled out a note that looked none the cleaner for having been in his pockets, but at this point he could have pulled it from the privy and Goku wouldn't have cared. He almost tore it in his haste to unfold the creases.   
  
It said, simply,   
  
We left money under your mattress.  
  
See you again in Chou'An.  
  
He read it again, as if the second time it would reveal more information.  
  
"You can read?" There was surprise in the question, and no small amount of respect. Mutely he nodded. Sanzo had taught him how to read, their first few years at the temple. It had been a slow process--he learned quickly but lost interest after a few words, and finally after many thwackings Sanzo had said that he'd wasted enough time and that animals didn't need to know how to read anyway. But by then he'd already mastered the basics and knew enough to get by. Usually he could guess at the words he didn't know.   
  
He knew all of the ones they'd used in the note. They'd picked easy characters and written them neatly. He looked up. "Who gave this to you?"   
  
"I don't rightly know his name, but he had really red hair--"  
  
He felt a sudden lump in his throat as the image of the erogappa rushed to mind. Of all of them he'd thought that Gojyo would never again sneak off like this, leaving them behind. Only this time it was them leaving him behind. Maybe that made it ok in his mind.  
  
See you again in Chou'An.  
  
Like hell, he thought. He started back towards the inn. "Where ya goin'?" Laifu called after him.  
  
He stopped and thought. "To eat breakfast," he replied.  
  
.........................  
  
It was an extremely tense ride. No one felt like talking, especially after Sanzo drew his gun out of his sleeve with a deliberate air. There wasn't even the saving grace of the radio; he didn't dare so much as reach for the knob. After almost sixty miles Hakkai said, almost absentmindedly, "Do you think we left him enough money?"  
  
"It was almost everything the bank had," Sanzo said irritably. "We're lucky they even knew what to do with the card. Besides, we left thousands of dollars. If he can eat his way through that then he deserves to starve to death. I certainly can't afford him."  
  
Hakkai looked almost on the point of saying something, then visibly shut his mouth a little tighter and drove on. It made him almost glad to be in the backseat, where it felt almost like a separate existence. At least forty miles had passed before he'd realized that he was free to stretch out, and when he had he'd felt guilty, then angry because it was ridiculous to feel guilty. The way Sanzo saw it, they were doing the kid a favor. He couldn't deny that it was getting more dangerous for all of them. But it was different for him and Sanzo and Hakkai. They'd known what they were getting into, or at least hadn't had a choice--hells, Hakkai was practically out on parole. Goku was always spoiling for a fight, but he'd just shown them even he could get in over his head. His mind flung back to the moment in the woods, when he'd seen the ape collapse and his heart had stuttered with fear.   
  
And now that he'd developed a disturbing tendency to make stupid decisions on his own...  
  
"No one should have to die a virgin," he said aloud.  
  
Hakkai flicked a glance at him in the rearview. In the flat slice of the mirror his eyes looked almost startled.   
  
"Maa ne."   
  
-------------------------  
  
They had left money for him, thick wads of notes. He rolled it up and stuffed it into his pouch. He'd need it for supplies, even if he wasn't going to be able to carry much. He'd already eaten everything that he could, but between his injury and his impatience to be off it hadn't been very much. (It had, however, been enough to make the innkeeper's mouth hang open ever so slightly.) He was rushing to get out, on to the road where he could start catching up to them. He was uncomfortably sure that if he waited he would realize how impossible it was to find them, and maybe even begin to think about doing what the note said and turning around.   
  
Another hour found him jogging down the road, with the innkeeper watching him suspiciously as he cleared the stables. In the end he couldn't think of anything to buy, other than food and water. Hakkai had always taken care of the supplies before. Even so, the pack he'd purchased felt awkward against his back. He tried to tighten the straps so it wouldn't bang against him when he moved, then gave up and ignored the awkward, swinging weight. As he jogged he repeated the words in the short note they'd left under his breath, testing them out.  
  
We left money under your mattress  
  
See you again in Chou'An  
  
If they came back at all.   
  
He shook his head angrily. If they said they were coming back then they were. Sanzo was probably just mad at him for running off like that. Sanzo never lied to him, didn't think it was worth it to lie. He wiped his nose and walked faster.  
  
Or maybe they'd just gotten tired of waiting for him to get up--according to the innkeeper he'd been out for at least four days. That was a long time for Sanzo, who got mad when he took more than half an hour to eat.   
  
  
  
He quickened his pace a little. Amazing how much more effort it seemed to take. He'd only been asleep for a few days but his muscles felt like they'd dried up.  
  
We left money under your mattress  
  
Money and a two line note. Did they really think he would give up, just like that? This was probably some kind of test on their part, to see if he was really serious.   
  
He ran a little faster.  
  
See you again in Chou'An   
  
And who knew how long it would take, and what if something happened to Sanzo on the way? What if he could have stopped it, if he'd been there? What if something was happening to him now? They were going through the forest probably, and he hadn't killed all of the youkai, he knew some of them had gotten away--  
  
He began to run, ignoring the jolting pain in his side. It was a stumbling run. His limbs had barely come awake and he still felt dehydrated, the meal sitting inside of him and refusing to integrate. Within seconds, it seemed, he could already feel his heart hammering in his chest.   
  
Come on, he told his body. This is not the time to be pathetic.  
  
  
  
It wasn't what they'd said that hurt. It was more what they didn't say. Probably it was Hakkai who'd written the note so neatly. Hakkai was good at not saying things that way. Why did it take so long for him to get to a point further off? When they drove in Jeep it never took more than a few minutes to reach the points he picked out with his eyes. But now the treeline seemed to stay just over the next small hill, past the next bend in the road.  
  
He reached it eventually, and kept running. He tried to find a pace that would be more comfortable, that wouldn't keep jolting him and burning up his energy, and that kept him busy until his lungs began to ache. He kept running, until his heart was pounding so hard he felt blinded by the thumping in his ears. He ran until his legs wouldn't support him when they hit the ground and jarred instead, then kept running until he got a second wind, and then a third. He fixed his eyes on a point and ran until he reached it, then fixed on another. He lost track of his winds. He ran until it seemed impossible to stop. His mind had flowed away somewhere and his body was left chugging on, locked in rhythm.  
  
His foot snagged against a half-buried root and sent him sprawling to the ground. He couldn't do anything to stop or even soften the fall, and hit the packed dirt of the road almost on his chin. For a moment he lay there, dazed. Then he lay there because he honestly didn't think he could get up and move. He wanted to roll over and vomit into the leaves, but that took too much energy as well and so he simply lay where he was and tried not to feel miserable.   
  
It was hard, because looming out of the grey fog of exhaustion were the mountains of despair. They were miles ahead of him, traveling in Jeep, and he didn't even know which way they'd gone. Sure, here there was only one main road in the right direction, but what would happen when it split? He didn't have any sense of direction and would probably get lost. And how would he ever catch up to them anyway, even if he knew where they were going? And what if they didn't want him back when he did?  
  
The words thrummed through his brain.  
  
We left money under your mattress  
  
See you again in Chou'An  
  
He closed his eyes, tried to slow his breathing.  
  
There's money under the mattress  
  
See you back in Chou'An  
  
When he felt that he could manage he turned himself over and onto his back. If a cart came along it would probably smash him flat. He would let it.   
  
Take the money under your mattress  
  
Go back to Chou'An  
  
Aware that his legs were on the verge of cramping painfully, he mustered the energy to flex his toes. He did it slowly, wincing as the muscles tightened against the cool earth.  
  
Take the money  
  
Now go back  
  
He realized that his mouth was beyond dry, that the air knifed its way into his lungs with every breath. He wondered if it were wise to drink his water now. He had no idea where the streams were or if there even were any beyond this. Nor did he know where the next town was. Tired, he was so tired and he weighed a million pounds and he wanted to shut his eyes and just rest for a while.  
  
Here Money  
  
Now go away  
  
Just a little while.  
  
Go away  
  
He opened his eyes, and clambered stiffly to his feet. And kept running.  
  
........................  
  
Why, he wondered, did they persist in picking topics disagreeable to him? He thought he'd made it perfectly clear that there was to be no further discussion on the subject, in fact, he'd stated that he would shoot the next person who tried. And yet for the past half hour it had been sporadic sentences, Goku this and monkey that. At the moment they were discussing his injuries.  
  
"Why do you suppose the Shoureijuu was so painful for him?" Gojyo was asking. "I mean, Droopy-Eyes over there has shot both of us with it before and we were ok."  
  
"Yes, but you must remember that Goku is not exactly the same as we are. You, for example, hardly have any youki at all--I suspect because of your mixed heritage."  
  
"Because I'm a halfbreed bastard, you mean," Gojyo replied amiably. "Call a spade a spade."  
  
Hakkai went on with scarcely a pause. "As for myself, I was lucky enough not to be hit in any vital organs. Besides, when my limiters are on, I'm hardly different from a regular human. Goku is a totally different matter. He radiates youki all the time. And when the limiter's off, well, it's like the sun on a summer day."  
  
The halfbreed seemed to digest this for a moment. "So...you're saying...the kid's not really human? Or a normal youkai?"  
  
He didn't like where the conversation was going.  
  
"Of course not," Hakkai said smoothly. "Just look at the way he eats."  
  
A snort from the backseat. "I swear, Hakkai, sometimes a guy really can't tell if you're joking or not."  
  
He silently agreed.  
  
"Of course, there's also the fact that the wound become infected, and that he was further injured within a day of receiving it."  
  
Gojyo muttered something. Then, louder, "Stupid ape."  
  
"I imagine, though, that he should have come around by now. I do wonder if he got the note."  
  
"If not, whoever cleans the rooms is going to get one hell of a tip."  
  
He couldn't take it any more. It was bad enough having to keep one ear cocked for that inaudible whine. He refused to be manipulated. "Enough."  
  
"Enough what?" Hakkai seemed almost startled by his interruption, and this made him even angrier.   
  
"We are NOT going back. I am NOT changing my mind. And if anyone mentions the monkey again he'll be breathing through a spare set of nostrils."  
  
"Who said anything about going back?" Gojyo demanded, and perhaps it would have been the argument that had been simmering all day, except that Hakkai distracted them by slamming on the brakes.   
  
In the moment of surprised silence that followed, they followed his gaze to where it rested, ten yards ahead and slightly above the road.  
  
"Is this how they greet travelers in these parts?" Hakkai wondered aloud.  
  
It twisted slightly from the thick branch where it hung. They stared at it until Gojyo broke the silence.  
  
"Why is it that everywhere we go we seem to find dead bodies?"   
  
  
  
-----------  
  
tbc  
  
and FINALLY--to all my reviewers:  
  
new: angel baby, emerald phoenix, d-chan, and missy irene, sankyuu, sankyuu, i'm so glad you're enjoying this!! happy to have you along for the ride, and please don't hesitate to criticize if the boys get too boring or OOC...  
  
old: sf--WAI!!!! new ficcy!! i'm torn between being intrigued and hoping that it won't stop you from updating ATA. *grin* would that i had your ability to manage multiple fics, and big fat ones too--my concentration span is just not up to par. and as for the rest of you faithful commentators, X-parrot (woohoo, the not-death-fic continues), krimson, Quantum (omg, your review for my last fic made my day), Ultra, Neko-san, gallatica, and K. Firefly (more of goku, juvenile delinquent!), thanks so much for sticking with me and giving me helpful feedback--heck, any feedback at all. ^^;; sorry if i shocked any of you (yoong!) by leaving the monkey behind. as you can see, he's coping with it...eheh...sorta.  
  
is this going off the deep end? beware, because the next section should introduce the *gasp of horror* dreaded OC!!! maybe even more than one, to be honest. ^^;; please, don't run screaming away!! i only want to plaayyyy....  
  
just kidding. no, but seriously, would you prefer that i spend more time writing one-shot shorts, like In Another Life and its ilk?  
  
~Aki 


	10. Strange Fruit

I apologize for the long delay in updating. I'm afraid that school's been pretty hard on me as of late--it's fall break now, which is the only reason why I'm able to sit down and get some writing done!! But thanks to everyone who reviewed me--it was really a good push for me to get off my butt and write another chapter, realizing that there were actually people waiting to read it!  
  
-----------------------------------------------  
  
and it is harder than you know  
  
to let you learn, and make you leave  
  
for though my heartbreak does not show  
  
when you are sad, my lad, i grieve  
  
-----------------------------------------------  
  
It was somehow all the more disturbing for the pleasantness of the landscape; the oak tree that supported it was sturdy and thick with foliage; the fields to either side were well-tended and filled with rows of straight young shoots. Birds sang from the low hedges that clustered by the road.   
  
"Maybe they couldn't afford a welcome sign. You know: Entering South LuoHu, Population 145, minus one."   
  
There was just enough wind to sway the corpse slightly by the rope around the neck, and to carry the stench of it to where they sat staring in Jeep.  
  
Gojyo went on. "I hope it wasn't a pretty woman, you know, that would've been a waste."  
  
"Shut up," Sanzo said briefly, and Gojyo did, so quickly that Hakkai wondered if he himself were secretly relieved at not having to feign flippancy. There was certainly nothing humorous about the sight. The corpse was black-faced, the limbs swollen. Its clothing was in tatters, the ubiquitous blue color of homespun cloth. Scavengers had already been at it, and from here he could barely tell if it had been a man or a woman, much less an attractive one.   
  
"About six days, would you say?" Sanzo glanced at him for confirmation.  
  
"Five," Gojyo corrected absently. "It's been warm." He looked away when they looked at him, slightly surprised. "I lived in this city once where they had to scour the alleys of the gambling quarter for bodies in the summer months, to keep them from stinking up the place too badly." He muttered the words quickly, then turned his red eyes back on them almost defiantly. But he merely saved the information in his mind, then began unfolding the map as Sanzo asked, "What do you know about the town we're coming up on?"  
  
"Not very much, except that it's in about six miles." All these little towns were similar, ragged shapes of land marked by the bounds of fields, clustered around a larger city where the province official lived. Some were poorer than others. This one looked to be in a good enough way; at least this year LuoHu would not be facing famine.   
  
He could feel, without looking, the corpse hanging before them on the road. Now, for the first time, he noticed that it had been very quiet. This close to a village, they normally passed at least a few travellers on the road: traders or small farmers, on their way to market, students, travelling artists, visiting relatives, the odd prodigal son.   
  
"Are there other towns nearby?"  
  
"The next one on the map is about another hundred or so."  
  
Sanzo cursed under his breath. Then he stood up and thrust his arms in his sleeves. "When we are in town," he said, staring straight ahead, "We are not going to ask questions. We are not going to go out of our way. We are NOT here to save anyone or anything, understand? We are NOT going to play Sherlock fucking Holmes. Is that clear?"  
  
"Sanzo-sama, as much as I like staring at your ass, you mind if we drive on? That smell is starting to overpower my cigarette," was Gojyo's only response. Beside him, Hakkai turned the key in the ignition.   
  
Surprisingly, Sanzo simply sat down and kept on staring straight ahead, arms folded.  
  
Hakkai thought, as they rattled past the tree with its strange, grotesque fruit, that it was almost as if he were waiting for a protest. None were forthcoming, although as they passed the tree he couldn't help reading the words on the wooden plaque that hung around the corpse's neck: Justice Above All. They drove on in silence with the sunset sprawled before them, flooding the fields with bloody light.  
  
-------------------------  
  
He was running. He was running, with leaden feet, after somebody, after a light that faded and faded despite his best efforts. He was falling...  
  
He woke up and sneezed. The little action triggered off an avalanche of hurts in his body, and he gasped as he realized how stiff and cold he was. He'd fallen asleep, maybe for an hour or two. It had still been daylight then. He gasped again, as hunger screamed through the halls of his body, tearing the wallpaper as it went. By pure instinct he got to his feet, ignoring the pain in his legs, his feet, the dizziness that nearly brought him back to the ground. He staggered for a few feet before realizing that his throat was aching with thirst, and that there was water in his pack. Remembering the pack, he whirled around and saw it lying a few paces away. Now it came to him: there was food in it as well. He dove for it, almost ripping the sturdy fabric in his haste to get it open. He emptied the contents out on the ground, sifting through the contents in a rush. He tore open a package of dried beef and chewed on a long strip while scrabbling, feeling his shriveled mouth begin to water.   
  
Ramen. Canned corn. A bag of pretzels. It was getting dark, the sun starting to set. The light would probably stick around for another hour at most. He didn't know how far he was from a town. He didn't really know if he'd gone in the right direction. A kind of tofu-made snack that he didn't really like, but Hakkai did, so they always got some at every convenience store. A Snickers bar. Three tea eggs, looking the worse for having been lain on. Two boxes of Strawberry Pocky; there hadn't been any Almond. He was still on the road, still somewhere on the way. He wondered where he would sleep if he didn't come across the next town. He wondered if he could figure out how to start a fire without Hakkai's help. Rice balls in wax paper. A canister of jasmine tea. It was all woods, no fields to suggest that he was getting anywhere near civilization. And finally, the bag of meatbuns he'd requested from the innkeeper's wife. She'd stuck her sharp elbows out as she eyed him and said, "What do you want with that many? They'll spoil before you can eat them all." They wouldn't, he'd assured her. Her expression had softened a little as she said, "A growing lad, eh? I remember when ours was about your age...thought he'd eat us right into bankruptcy, I did..."   
  
He'd been glad to find something that would make her more likely to give him the meatbuns. "He must've gotten pretty big, I guess, with all that food."  
  
  
  
At that she'd stiffened slightly. "Dunno," she snapped, "He ran off when he was still a skinny little brat, like you." He was about to object to the skinny little brat part, but she interrupted him with, "You're all heartless, you kids," and stomped into the kitchen. When he'd come back with his groceries the buns had been waiting in a clean white cloth.  
  
He bit into one now. It tasted better than anything he'd ever tasted in his life, better than even the chocolate cake he'd ordered that one time Gojyo had gotten ahold of the credit card and taken them out while Sanzo was stuck being welcomed by the local temple. That was one advantage of being just the stupid monkey. He was never welcome pretty much anywhere. It was easier to get out of boring ceremonies that way.   
  
Maybe that was why Sanzo had decided to leave him behind. Maybe he wanted his companions to be more...respectable. It made sense, in a way. Sanzo was a high-ranking priest, even if he didn't act like one. He gnawed on his fourth meatbun, and drank half of his water in one swallow when they started to feel dense in his stomach. He'd promised Hakkai that he would try to eat more vegetables, so he took out the can of corn. Then he realized that he didn't have a can opener, that the can opener was in Hakkai's pack. It was probably sitting in Jeep's backseat right now. The backseat would have more space, with only the kappa sitting there, even if his legs were ridiculously long and he slouched all over the place.  
  
He felt his throat beginning to knot behind his jaws and swallowed hard, trying to push it down. Now that he was chewing he found that the meat was a bit gristly, but he still wasn't about to complain. It actually hurt a little to chew. He flexed his arms experimenting, wincing when he rolled out his shoulders. Lifting up his shirt, he gaped when he saw the neat line of stitches peeking out of the top of the bandages. His left leg was also throbbing, and he ran one hand over his shin. Hakkai had tried to explain it to him before. "It's like...glue," he'd said. "When your bones get broken I sort of 'glue' them back together, but because the body still has to draw on its own reserves to knit them, you have to wait for the 'glue' to dry, or else it all comes apart again."  
  
Just how long had he been out? He wasn't sure. Long enough for the glue to dry, he hoped, or Hakkai was going to be upset. He hated it when Hakkai was upset, because it was so hard to tell that he always just wound up worrying that Hakkai was upset. Not like Sanzo. It was obvious when Sanzo got upset. Probably Sanzo had been upset when he found out that he'd sneaked off on his own. Probably he'd been furious. Probably he hadn't cooled off for days. Probably he was still mad now.   
  
But surely he wouldn't stay mad FOREVER. Presumably he'd once done something to make someone so mad that they'd locked him up for five hundred years. But even THAT wasn't forever, and besides, this time there weren't any chains. He said it out loud to himself, just to emphasize it.  
  
"You can't stop me from coming back." He clenched his fists. "There aren't any chains. You made them break, remember?"  
  
He muttered it again through the rest of the sixth bun as he massaged his sore feet. "You broke them. You came, so don't try to get out of it now!"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
He was on his feet, Nyoibou held out before him warily, before the rest of him even registered that he was surprised. The speaker looked at him from ten feet away, eyes slightly wide. He lowered Nyoibou. "Don't sneak up on people when they're eating!" he shouted. "You scared me!"  
  
"Well, you scared me!" she retorted, voice shaking. "Where'd that big stick come from? And I was NOT sneaking up on you, you were just too busy talking to yourself to notice!"  
  
"Was not! Not even assassins can sneak up on me. Unless I'm asleep. And what's a little kid like you doing out in the middle of nowhere anyway?"  
  
"I am NOT a little kid and I did TOO sneak up on you, dummy. Anyway you have to be quiet when you're catching birds, and that's what I was doing. And this isn't the middle of nowhere, we're only three miles from home."   
  
Why did all females stick their hands on their hips like that? he wondered as he scowled at her. He'd only ever really known a few--there weren't any women at the temple for some reason, and with a few exceptions most of the ones he'd met on the journey had all been trying to kill him. This one would've reminded him of Lirin almost, except that they didn't look alike. Lirin was youkai and Gojyo had once described her as "the bouncy ball with teeth and legs." This girl was human and a little taller and looked like he could carry her in his hand if he needed to.   
  
"Well?"  
  
But they definitely had something in common.  
  
"Well what?" He wished she hadn't startled him so badly. It was embarassing, being snuck up on by someone who came up to his chin. For the first time he was actually glad that he was alone. The others would never have let him live it down.  
  
"Well, aren't you going to tell me your name?"  
  
He picked up the piece of bun he'd dropped and tried to brush off the dirt, then gave up and stuffed it in his mouth. "Mm Gohu." He swallowed. "I'm Goku." He kept an eye on the girl as he bent down to stuff everything back into his bag. She didn't look like she could fight, but Gojyo said that it was always the cute little ones you had to watch for. He'd have to get going if he wanted to find a place to stay for the night. A town couldn't be far, if her house was only a few miles off.   
  
"Okay." She turned on her heel and walked off a few steps, then stopped. "Well? Aren't you coming with me?"  
  
He stopped re-screwing the lid of the canister, startled. "Am I?"   
  
"That's why I had to ask you your name!" She was standing there looking impatient. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers. Now you're not a stranger. Don't you want to come? We're going to be late. Lao Du always waits for me before eating, even if I come home when the owls are calling. But he doesn't like it, because he worries."  
  
It didn't take long to make up his mind. She wasn't trying to kill him, even if she did sound like Lirin. "Hang on a sec," he said hastily, and resumed stuffing his pack. He only paused for a moment, when his fingers closed on a slightly crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds. Then he straightened, doing his best to ignore the pain in his leg and the stitch in his side. "Let's go."  
  
Maybe they had a can opener.  
  
--------------------------------------  
  
hey guys! it's been one month! didja miss me? ^^  
  
Short chapter, i know. but i really wanted to post, just to prove that i was still alive.  
  
thanks again to everyone who reviewed (and that one super-nice person who e-mailed--you know who you are!)   
  
and thanks to all the great writers who updated their fics in the meanwhile...sorry i haven't been around to review, but you KNOW you have my undying admiration =)  
  
is it getting too kooky? a whole slew of original characters coming up, i'm afraid--you didn't think i'd drag kougaiji and crew into this, did you? what's an epic without its own villain, after all? there might even be more than one...  
  
in the meanwhile, school continues to slay me an inch at a time. i have so many ideas, including TWO 5x8 standalones, one quite short. i'll post them when i can, but i promise that i haven't given up on this story. (if i don't beat the crap out of the curve on the next accounting exam, that may change, but until then...!)  
  
*goes off to research paper on future applications of wireless technologies* 


	11. Big City

do y'all still remember this fic? *blush* i really hope so, tho i wouldn't blame ya if you'd forgotten.  
  
I apologize so much for the late, late, late update!! at least this chapter's a decent length ^^;;   
  
and, happy holidays =) that said...  
  
****************  
  
"I hope you know what you're doing, Bosatsu-sama."  
  
She smiled. It wasn't, he felt, the properly inscrutable, ineffable smile of a divine being. But then again, there wasn't much She did that was proper. The position of an immortal, even one of the five revered Buddhas, didn't entitle you to as many liberties as you might think. It was only because She was so good at getting things done, that She could keep on doing them.   
  
Kanzeon Bonsatsu smiled again. It was something like the smug look of a cat with a mouse under its paw, and something like the victorious face of a general, but altogether more like the smile of a five-year old who refuses to tell you where he put Mommy's diamond engagement ring after "pwaying" with it.   
  
"Oh, I always know what I'm doing. It's only they who get confused sometimes."  
  
He looked down. It had been so many centuries. His eyes were no longer what they had been. But if he squinted, he could see the threads pulling together, converging in a tangle, somewhere north of Chengdu.   
  
**********************  
  
There was something wrong with this town. He was sure of it. People stared at them, but then, they always stared; that was part of having the golden crown. You couldn't bloody well hide the chakra all the time, no matter how you grew your hair. It got into you, somehow, and came out in other ways, like having thr--two companions who never knew when to shut up and stop asking questions. Although, if he were scrupulously honest with himself, he would perhaps have to admit that walking away wasn't his strong point, either.   
  
For whatever reasons, going undercover rarely managed to save them time. Still, it might mean seeing one less smug-faced dignitary, so he didn't argue when Hakkai politely reminded him that they were about to enter town and wouldn't he like to perhaps make them a little less conspicuous? He considered saying something about the anonymity of traveling with a halfbreed and a white dragon, but the words died in his throat. Gojyo had been quiet the whole day, and now was not the time. He wasn't sure when the time would be, but it would have to wait until his head stopped splitting.   
  
Frankly he'd never liked the whole get-up anyway; it reminded him of someone whom he couldn't be.  
  
If he were being scrupulously honest with himself, he would perhaps he to admit that that was why he wore it.   
  
Maybe it was a good thing that he was too busy studying how people stared.  
  
  
  
******************  
  
There was something wrong with this town. For one thing, it was far, far too big. It could hardly be called a town, really, it was pushing the upper limits of the word city. If its suburbs had gone any further out, it might've been more properly called a county.   
  
He tried to reason it out. Perhaps the map was too old. It was hard to get updated charts; information didn't exactly travel at the speed of light, and travelers were such an oddity in some of the places where they stopped that there weren't even any actual inns, only a few rooms above the local tavern that were sometimes rented out to lodgers for a small fee and a share of the hard work. This one, however, had to have been made within the past five years. He'd purchased it in a fairly busy trade town along the Yangtze, and it had been mostly accurate for the past three hundred miles. However, where a small town named LuoHu was supposed to be, to the north of Chengdu, there was...this.  
  
LuoHu was a dense, sprawling mess of buildings and street signs which showed little planning. But for a city which seemed to have sprung from the mud in the past few years, it was remarkably complete. It had markets filled with vendors hawking their wares with varying degrees of honesty but absolutely no shame. It had streets of ramshackle dwellings, firetraps where families of eight or ten crowded in every room. It had gaudy red-roofed residences guarded by white stone lions that screamed of new money. It even was beginning to have a separate section of the city, fenced off and well-kept, that smacked of old money. And it had people, throngs of them, hurrying with their heads down as if bracing against some imaginary wind.   
  
They walked in straight lines, for the most part, over paving stones not yet worn smooth. No loitering for LuoHu, although every now and then they passed men with yellow who seemed to have nothing better to do than stand on the corner and let their gazes range over the crowds. People walked with their heads a little lower and their feet a little quicker on those corners. Hakkai caught more than one looking at them oddly, the curious light of menace in their eyes. Certainly they weren't doing a very good job of blending, casual clothing or no. It made him glad that he didn't need to carry a weapon to be armed.  
  
It also made him think of a body in tattered blue rags, twisting slowly on a rope.  
  
**************************  
  
There was definitely something very far wrong with the town.  
  
There were no whores.   
  
No shrill calls for honored guests to come in and have a cup of wine, no eager hands plucking at his sleeve. No women wearing worn-out dresses, thick make-up and a cynical brand of hope on the street corners. In fact, the only people standing on street corners were the kind that smart girls stayed away from. They looked like the kind that were pally with the local officers, knew it, and knew that you knew it. They never paid. He'd had to bounce a few in his day. Sometimes he did it for free, because hells, they just pissed him off. Sometimes a whore would slip you something that would knock you out while she stripped your pockets, but it was all part of the game, and the rules were caveat emptor. That didn't make it right to threaten her livelihood.  
  
There were a few whorehouses, but you had to look for them. Closely. Even the bars were amazingly quiet; from what he could see, patrons huddled over their drinks. Dice clinked quietly, without a chorus of cheers or swears. That couldn't be good for business, he reflected. You made your money off of the loud ones, the ones who pounded their fists, then went for one more round. There was laughter, sometimes, high-pitched and loud, cutting off abruptly.  
  
Something was wrong with this town. Gojyo attracted whores the way a dead body attracted flies. He liked to believe it was his sex appeal--he did believe it was his sex appeal, most of the time. It just didn't hurt that he won more often than he lost and was a big tipper. But it looked like it would take a pretty big tip to pry this town out from behind the shutters.   
  
He dared to comment on it quietly, when they'd found a place to eat. The food was better than he'd expected, and spicier--this close to Szechuan they were liberal with the chili sauce. He was surprised at the amount of meat in the dishes; clearly, it wasn't hunger that pinched people's faces. Sanzo had ordered too much for three people. He'd been on the point of ordering more when he'd caught the server giving him funny look, then snapped his jaw shut. It had stayed that way for the rest of the meal, which killed Gojyo's appetite. The server was keeping a wary eye on them from a distance, and reappeared with more tea and nervous flicks of the towel a bit more frequently than was necessary.   
  
"S'a nice town," he said when they'd cleared the first dish wordlessly, tracing the grooves in the table. It was, too, in a way. The streets were clean of garbage, human and otherwise. The stores were well-stocked and well-lit, and if the black market was large, it was also very well hidden. Everyone looked clothed and well-fed. They'd only stepped into a small tavern, but there was no grit in the food, and the tea was good enough for even Hakkai.   
  
"Mmm," Hakkai made a small noncommittal noise, looking at him over the top of his teacup. With his left hand, he rolled a pair of lacquered chopsticks back and forth.   
  
"Good food," he added, sneaking a look at Sanzo. The latter might have been made of stone, if stone chewed mechanically.  
  
"Spicy," said Hakkai, "but the tofu, I thought, was very flavorful. The black tea duck, too. It's always a pleasure to taste the regional specialities. Shame we couldn't try any more."  
  
Sanzo was still studiously ignoring them. He stared off towards the kitchens, watching the two waiters dashing in and out. Even in the heavens and hells, Gojyo reflected, cooks yelled and waiters probably dashed. "You suppose there's food in the heavens?" The words slipped out before he was aware of them.  
  
Hakkai looked slightly startled, then laughed. "I hope so. I know some people who wouldn't be happy there, otherwise."   
  
He smirked. "You're right."   
  
Sanzo made a sudden movement and he braced himself, but the monk was only turning his head to say, "Is that girl coming towards us?"  
  
They both looked back. There was indeed a girl, weaving her way through the half-empty tables, her eyes fixed on the three of them.   
  
  
  
She wasn't bad-looking, with a lean oval face, but her symmetric features were too strong to be called pretty. He wouldn't have looked at her twice in the street, even before he'd joined the group. She looked like the type who wouldn't stand for it, anyway, at least at first. Quietly dressed, hair in two plain braids, nothing gauzy or flowing, just the tight-sleeved jacket and long pants that looked clean and practical. Face pale, no make-up. Just his luck, not a whore, although honestly he wasn't sure what he would've done if she had been; there was something about having a monk and Hakkai in the next room. Besides, he liked them a little older and lusher. Sixteen or seventeen, he guessed, then revised it to eighteen or nineteen when she came closer. She was long-limbed, flat and thin as a colt, but the expression in her eyes was sober and resolute.   
  
She came to a stop a few feet from their table, and her eyes moved from one face to another with a trace of hesitation before fixing on Sanzo's. She opened her mouth, closed it and cleared her throat, and tried again. In a low, quiet voice, she asked, "You are Genjyo Sanzo?"  
  
Sanzo glared at her, and she shrank back slightly. Hakkai interposed gently, "What's the matter, miss?"   
  
Here it comes, he thought.  
  
And it did. The girl took a step forward, clenching her fists. "Please, sir, we need your help."  
  
****************************  
  
It was thoroughly dark by the time they reached her home, which wound up being a small cabin in a stand of pines. The smell made him dodgy, remembering the attack by the river, but she moved confidently, and what was more surprising, silently. He followed stiffly and tried not to feel too much like Jeep, crashing through the undergrowth. He wondered how it was done. It was a handy trick, alright.  
  
Half-hidden in the shadow of the trees, the cabin was almost invisible until they were close enough to see the firelight shining from its windows. No matter what the girl said, he thought, this was definitely the middle of nowhere. They'd walked a good mile off the road to get here, and there wasn't another building in sight, not even a woodshed. The cabin itself wasn't much larger than a shack; the stables he'd stolen the horse out of had been larger. He wondered whether anyone other than the girl and the friend she'd mentioned lived there. A few more and there wouldn't be elbow room, unless the cabin was like a magician's hat.  
  
He felt nervous suddenly at the thought of barging in, until he remembered that he had money and could pay for anything he ate. That was a good thing, because all the walking had made him hungry again. At least, he thought it was hunger that was making him dizzy. It could have also been related to the tearing pain in his muscles. The cold night air had turned his body into one big cramp. It was an effort not to wince with every step. She walked way too fast for such a short little kid; what was the deal with that? With the same quick steps she flitted to the door and pulled it open. Before he could even shuffle his feet, she'd tugged him inside.   
  
The room was small and warm, but vaguely smoky. To his left was another doorway, blocked off by a length of thick red woolen cloth. There was little but a table, the fire, and a bed made up in the corner. He blinked a bit as his eyes adjusted, then sniffed at the smell of something cooking. His mouth watered, and he looked longingly at the round-bellied pot that hung over the fire, suspended by its handles and a thin pole.   
  
"Hey, Ol' Du*! I'm home," his guide called out.   
  
A voice responded from behind the red cloth partition, "Ah, Jinling, dinner's ready." He hadn't, he realized, known her name. Within moments the fabric was pushed aside, and a thin old man came out, stopping with surprise when he saw Goku.   
  
At least, he looked old at first: he had stooped shoulders and sparse hair, and although the eyes were kind as they rested on him, they also seemed tired, somehow. It was a look that made the face older. He'd seen it on the rest of the Ikkou at times. Jinling said quickly, "His name's Goku. He's not a stranger."  
  
"I'm sure he isn't," smiled the old man, but the gentle curiosity did not leave his eyes. "Goku, would you care to have dinner with us? Our fare is rough, but you are welcome to it."  
  
He looked at the pot again, and nodded so quickly that the girl laughed.   
  
The meal was good, and comfortable. He ate and talked less than he was used to, because even though they weren't strangers, they weren't friends. He was happy when the old man asked no questions. He wasn't sure how to explain, and when he tried it inside his head, it didn't sound terribly good. "I'm going after my friends, because they left me behind," wasn't convincing, even to him. So he kept his head low and listened as Jinling told Old Du, as she called him, about the things she'd seen in the fields and forest. Apparently she'd been looking for birds. He found himself drifting out of the conversation, thinking about the others and wondering how far they were now. Surely, he figured, they'd stopped for the night.  
  
He came back with a start as she mentioned his name, describing how she'd found him. Old Du looked at him carefully, as if he could see straight through his clothes and the bandages underneath. He looked right back, staring at the man openly, chewing slowly while she talked. The thick hotpot with rice noodles was delicious, but by now even his jaws felt tired, and besides, it wouldn't have been polite to eat all of their dinner. After all, he had gotten through a good portion of his pack earlier, even though it had been almost two hours ago.   
  
After dinner Jinling began to yawn. The old man drew a pail of water from somewhere outside, and she washed her face and went to bed on the pallet in the corner. She fell asleep almost instantly.  
  
Goku stood uncertainly in the middle of the room, watching the old man clear the table. He'd offered to pay, and been refused, then offered to help, and been refused again. "This will only take a minute, then I'll make up a bed for you," Old Du said, poking at the fire, which collapses with a cloud of sparks.  
  
"Thanks," he replied awkwardly, twisting one foot around the other. "M'sorry for the trouble." He couldn't help feeling abashed. He'd never had to rely on someone other than Sanzo for food and shelter before, and it was an odd feeling. Old Du didn't seem much like the monks who'd resented him under their roof.   
  
"No need for thanks. You are tired, and--" glancing up, "--possibly wounded." Goku immediately straightened up and tried to look healthy. "Do you need any care? I have some practice--"  
  
"No, I'm fine," he said hastily. He could still feel the throbbing of his wounds over the general cacophony of his nerves, but he had a sneaking feeling gunshot wounds and claw marks would probably lead to more questions.   
  
He didn't want questions. He just wanted to collapse until it was time for breakfast.   
  
Old Du emerged from behind the red curtain carrying a thick sheepskin and a pile of blankets. "I'm sorry, this is this best we can do right now. I'll set it up by the fire, so you won't get too cold in the night."  
  
"It's great!" he hastened to say. "And your cooking rocks, too."  
  
The old man smiled, then, as his hands smoothed the pile into a neat shape on the floor, asked, "You're looking for someone, aren't you." It wasn't really a question.  
  
Goku felt a surge of hope, followed by one of fear. Could it be that Sanzo had passed through here already? Had he told the old man to turn Goku back? He opened his mouth to reply, then jumped.  
  
Jinling was screaming.  
  
* In the previous chapter she refers to him as "Lao Du." In Chinese, "lao" means old, so she's basically using a tremendously disrespectful way of referring to him, but there's something of a reason for it. I just figured not enough people would know what I meant if I kept using the Chinese.  
  
****************************  
  
For a moment, no one responded. Then Sanzo's fist crashed onto the table, making the plates (and everyone in the tavern) jump. He threw his other hand into the air. "What is it? Do I have 'Let me come to your aid' written on my forehead? It's a chakra, not a goddamned emergency button!"  
  
The girl looked more shocked than terrified, Gojyo noted, giving her points for not turning tail. It took a very long time to figure out that Sanzo was more bark than bite, and the fact that the man got trigger-happy every time his temper was up didn't help.   
  
Apparently, he wasn't done barking yet. "Give me one good reason why I should help you!"  
  
"Sanzo, please! We don't even know what she wants yet!" Hakkai, ever the voice of reason.   
  
"Bouzu, shut up and let the girl talk. How can it hurt to just hear her out?" He didn't understand why Sanzo felt that being a prick was a holy prerogative.  
  
The monk folded his arms and glared at him. "We're leaving this town tomorrow, and I do. Not. Want. Complications. Bad enough that we lost time at that last town. We've spent three years already on a journey that was supposed to take no more than four, and we're not even halfway there. Is it too much to ask that you all just TRY to go west?"  
  
He stood up so fast his chair shot backwards and crashed over. "Far be it from us, O Mighty Leader, to question the wisdom of your decisions! Please, feel free to make them without informing us! After all, we're nothing to the mission, or to you!" Images were building up behind his eyes: Goku's unconscious face, screwed up in pain, the hanging body, the averted eyes of the townspeople. The dry-lipped desperation of the girl beside their table. He wanted to keep shouting.  
  
"You're exactly right. Exactly." Sanzo's voice could have frozen alcohol, filled with a rage like dry ice. He glared right back into those arrogant narrow eyes, jaw clenched so tightly he couldn't speak. He didn't even realize he'd drawn back his fist until he felt Hakkai clutching it desparately.   
  
"Quiet!! If you don't want to get us all killed, be quiet!!" He looked over. He'd almost forgotten about the girl. She was now making frantic gestures with her hands, but not quite those of humble supplication. "Shhh!" she said in a fierce undertone, "Please, you're drawing attention!" Glancing over her shoulder, the girl moaned under her breath. "Too late, idiots, they're here already!"  
  
"What? Who's here?" As one their eyes followed hers. A crowd of men was coming in the front door, the servers backing up respectfully to let them in. The owner was gesturing at them and explaining over and over, "Newcomers...don't know them, completely unconnected, just a bit of a quarrel--" One of the men lifted a hand and his high-pitched prattling was cut off as suddenly as if he'd been struck.   
  
"Conspirers, do you think?" one of the men asked.   
  
"Disturbing the public peace, I should think," replied another as they advanced.  
  
"Lock-ups for them, then?"  
  
"It'd only be fair and just," and they were halfway across the room.  
  
"Shit," Gojyo said under his breath, and he could see that a similar sentiment was on everyone else's mind. This didn't sound like the thing you could talk your way out of.   
  
"Well," Sanzo said, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. "I think they picked a bad day to run into us."  
  
"No, please, not in the store!" It was the girl again, shaking her head. "You'll get Mr. Wang in trouble."   
  
They exchanged glances. Without a word, Sanzo reached into his robes, raised his arm, and fired his gun at the feet of the encroaching men. With a yelp the lead few scattered. "Now!" the monk barked, but it was hardly necessary; Gojyo was headed for the door already, leaping over tables as he went, and he could tell Hakkai was right behind. A forcefield seemed to be pushing out ahead of them, clearing scattered men and chairs in their path. He wondered when Hakkai had learned that particular trick.   
  
To his surprise, he saw the girl ahead of him, calling "Follow me!" as she dashed through the doors. Sanzo cursed and went down with a crash as one of the men clutched at his robes. Clubbing at the attacker's hand with the butt of his gun, he scrambled to his feet.  
  
"What are you waiting for, you stupid kappa, go!"  
  
He went. As the angry voices rang out behind him, he put his long legs to use, speeding after his friends and the amazingly quick girl in the blue jacket. The people in the street parted as if by imperial command. He was impressed by how quickly they melted back, as if being chased were contagious. It made it easier to run, but also easier to be pursued. He didn't waste time looking behind to see how close his pursuers were, just concentrated on not putting a foot wrong. Behind him, he heard Sanzo fire his gun. The bullet ricocheted off of something that clanged. Someone howled, and loud swearing burst out behind them.  
  
Ahead of him, Hakkai skidded and disappeared around a corner, following their fleet-footed guide. He followed suit, then nearly had his arm wrenched out of his socket as the girl appeared behind a small fruit stand and grabbed him by the wrist. "Over here!" she hissed, pulling him behind the stand, into the narrow doorway of what looked like an old tea store. Hakkai was already moving into the room at the back. The withered old man at the counter continued sorting through jars calmly, as if nothing was happening, as Sanzo stumbled in and the four of them went out through a back door and into a small alley. They crouched behind the shadows of rubbish heaps, waiting for things to go quiet. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, heard Sanzo trying to breathe quietly. Thank gods he'd cut down on the cigs. Had to thank Hakkai for that. In his mind he felt the old rhythm of fear-- they'regonnacatchmegonnacatchme-- humming along the rush of adrenaline.   
  
He stifled his gasps with an arm, and smiled into his sleeve.  
  
Felt just like old times again.  
  
  
  
*********************  
  
FIRST OFF: to all my lovely, wunnerful reviewers! thank you so much for your support =)   
  
Nightfall Rising, that was the best review i've gotten, pretty much ever. it's nice to know people appreciate the details *grin* i confess i'm totally guilty of making hakkai a bit too xellos-y (i know exactly what you're talking about, and i haven't even seen slayers before *grin*), but i'll try to even them all out a bit as the story rolls on. the sign does come back ^^ i hope you won't be disappointed in the development!  
  
Emerald Phoenix, hope this one was long enough for ya!  
  
yoong, as you see, i have NOT abandoned this fic, and have no intention of doing so! this is my first RL (ridiculously long) story, and i am going to finish it, dammit.  
  
Angel Baby, i am so flattered that you check this fic to see if it's been updated. i do that too, but only for the ones that REALLY keep me on the edge of my seat! i'm so glad to know it's keeping your interest =) and wahaha, the new characters are flooding in. you haven't even met the baddies yet!  
  
Blades of Ice, yes, we authors are lazy ^^;; we're also lousy at time management, and alas! stuck with rl responsibilities *sigh* however, i'm not totally blocked in terms of plot/inspiration, so we'll see how fast i can roll these suckers out. maybe i can manage another chappie before break ends =)  
  
X-parrot, darlin', i have yet another 58 short futurefic in the works *grin* having found the problem of 30 to be a knotty one, i relieve myself by jamming red-hair and green-eyes together in as many 'happily ever after's as i can ^^  
  
D-chan, congrats on outwriting us all lately =) it's good to see more of your work, even though i'm super-busy and haven't actually read anyone's fic in a long while *hangs head*  
  
Kat, i hit ya back on lj =) if you want a half-assed beta again, i'm your man...  
  
UltraM2000, thanks for the welcome back ^^  
  
NekoMagami, i never did thank you for liking "Clean." i have the feeling you're one of few who did!  
  
Shihoshi Ryu, Adorable Dormouse, thanks for hopping onto this crazy bus. hope you continue to enjoy the ride! it's gonna be a long one =) 


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